


Different Dreams

by Primarina (sherlockstummy)



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food, Food Kink, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, Porn, Sick Character, Wanderlust, blood mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Primarina
Summary: If Dan wasn't performing, he'd be a vagrant. If Arin wasn't performing, he'd be making miniatures and playing Overwatch. So...what kind of lives would our two heroes lead, if that was the case?Loosely based on this prompt here: http://imagineyourfeedistotp.tumblr.com/post/121379024616/imagine-that-person-a-of-your-ot3-has-been-a





	1. The Traveling Minstrel

“Fuckin’ a,” Dan grumbled, turning his guitar over in his lap to inspect the damage, watching the broken string curl upwards from the neck of the instrument. He couldn’t fix the broken string in any way, and any music he played wouldn’t sound the same without it. With a frustrated growl, Dan slumped against the dirty brick wall behind him. Thankfully, he was in the artsy part of town, so he knew there’d be a music store around here someplace.

The drifter leaned forward with a grunt to fetch his guitar case. Some coins rattled around the inside as he pulled it forward. The case had seen better days, the black leather faded from exposure to the elements, the blue faux fur lining faded away in some places, not to mention that it smelled dank and musty and a little bit like weed.

Weed and a crazy dream had got him here, but there was less of the former and more of the latter these days.

Dan scooped up all the money from the inside of the case carefully and began to count. He hadn’t been performing for too long today, and there’d been a lot of competition. That was the downside to these art-centered small towns. There was plenty of support for street performances, but any given prime spot could be occupied by at least three other performers, all clamoring for attention. He’d expected his winnings to be poor, but he hadn’t even managed to make ten dollars.

“Shit,” he cursed, knowing he would have to choose between food and the replacement strings, while also knowing that the choice was obvious. 

Dan pocketed his earnings and stood up, stretching. The other benefit of these little hippie towns was that nobody looked at you twice if you looked, well, homeless. A lot of hippies typically dressed in the same fashion he did, though maybe without a leather jacket, like he had. 

He hiked his jeans up, pulling his belt a notch tighter. Even so, his jeans slipped down around his hips. Dan pulled his shirt down self-consciously and pulled his backpack over his shoulder, ignoring the soft rush of dizziness that came with said action. With all the care of a father putting his child into a crib, Dan placed his guitar into the case and lifted that up, as well. He shifted the weight around slightly to make for easier transport, and then headed back the way he’d come into the town. He knew there was a music shop somewhere…

By now, it was late afternoon. The sun was lazily shining down, promising to keep him warm for another hour at least, even if the breezes of early evening were already picking up. 

Once Dan reached the music shop, he stopped to take a breath. Being a drifter afforded him the ability to stay in shape, but that didn’t help if he didn’t have any energy. He winced, gripping the front of his jacket and pressing his knuckles into his stomach as it growled, demanding attention. What he wouldn’t do for a sandwich right now. Even just half of one would do.

The traveler drew a deep breath into his stomach, hoping to calm it down, before slipping into the music store. It wasn’t worth it to buy food if his guitar wasn’t in top condition; that was how he got money in the first place.

As soon as Dan set foot in the music store, though, he immediately felt at home. Brand new guitars, some acoustic and some electric, hung from the walls. A few keyboards were on the ground at waist level, and there were even a few drum sets, some traditional and others electric. Towards the back, he could see a gigantic turntable set, perfect for any D.J. 

As luck would have it, the single employee in the shop was busy talking to another customer, so Dan could browse unnoticed. He was lucky enough to have invested in the all-important basic hygiene materials during his last large “paycheck,” as it were, but he was self-conscious about what he might look like at close quarters, with his greasy hair and stubble that hadn’t been shaved for quite some time, giving him an impressive, if odd, neckbeard.

The drifter found himself entranced by a beautiful blue base electric hanging next to a red v-neck. He’d never seen that much money in his life (at least that he could recall), and he desperately wished he could afford it, even if an electric guitar was far from practical. 

Dan liked to think of himself as a minstrel or bard from some fantasy universe or other, traveling the land and singing songs of greatness he’d learned along the way. It made the hard parts of being homeless easier to bear. Desolate nights and days that seemed to last an eternity, hunger and thirst, whenever it was unbearably hot or freezing cold, finding himself just a few dollars short of one night in a shelter…

This life was hard, but it was something he wanted to do. He’d always wanted to travel, and while he’d meant internationally, to see what lay beyond America, wandering this great land on foot or via hitchhiking, the occasional bus trip when he could afford it, was amazing, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Why should he waste his life in a stuffy, dead-end office job when there was so much to see?

Dan found a box of guitar strings he could safely afford and went to go check out. He noticed that a young woman was trying, and failing, to subtly watch him from across the room. When Dan looked up, trying to meet her eyes, she pretended to be extremely interested in one of the keyboards, but he thought he could sense her interest.

He was lucky, after all, that he was attractive, at least in some circles. He was far from the Channing Tatum, Chris Hemsworth type, but he could see the appeal. Some women loved skinny guys. And his suave, gentle personality could usually sway a woman on the fence.

Once Dan had completed his purchase, he strode right up to the young woman. She was quite attractive, too, petite and dark and curvy, long hair in dreads pulled back in a loose ponytail. Dan tried to school his face into the most effective “bedroom eyes” he possibly could, hoping that she’d play along. The allure of a warm bed to sleep in, a shower to make use of, the chance of sex to be had and food to be stolen was strong. He hoped to be successful tonight.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, pitching his voice low. “I’d love to hear you sing. Why don’t we head to your place and you can show me your pipes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey! Look at this new thing I'm trying to write! If you came for the food kink, don't worry, there will be plenty! But I'm hoping everyone can enjoy this, not just the kinky folk like me.
> 
> Just as a note, Dan is probably closer to his early thirties in this, and Arin will be probably early to mid twenties, since this is meant to take place instead of Dan forming NSP. Sooo...2009-ish? It's too late for me to do math at present...whatever, we'll figure it out.
> 
> If you do the math, write it in the comments so everyone knows! Also leave kudos if you like it. 
> 
> Thanks!


	2. On the Open Road

Dan had not slept as well as he’d hoped, though that was likely due to the emptiness in his stomach. The upside was that he’d managed to use Shauna’s shower after they’d made love, and she even allowed him to cuddle up beside her. Dan sighed, carefully and silently detaching himself from her warm, sweet-smelling body. As much as he liked sex and, even better, liked giving just as good as he got, all that effort was hungry work.

In the adjourning bathroom, Dan brushed his teeth and then drank from the faucet until his stomach couldn’t hold anymore and then dressed. He padded out to the living room where he’d left his bag, guitar, jacket, and shoes. He settled everything in place in preparation to bolt and then headed into the kitchen.

Guilt twisted in his stomach as his hands hovered over the doors to the pantry. He always hated stealing, especially because his mom had made him feel like the worst person on planet Earth for stealing grape chapstick when he was four. However, he had to eat to survive. The subtle shake in his knees and the soft rush of dizziness he felt as he swayed on his feet told him so.

Careful to be as quiet as possible, Dan opened the pantry and silently sorted through it. Shauna was one of those sporty women, who, thankfully, kept an assortment of granola bars and protein bars around. Dan was careful to take only what wouldn’t be missed and to put everything right back where he’d found it. Slipping his bounty into his bag, Dan glanced outside, noticing that the first true rays of sunlight were beginning to poke out over the lip of the world. Shauna would probably wake up soon, and he had to get out of here and on the road again before she did.

Dan opened up the refrigerator and found an open jar of peanut butter. He remembered some beauty queen girl he knew once telling him that one of her meals was a spoonful of peanut butter because it was filling and also full of lots of good fats and protein. Dan stuck his finger into the jar, careful to swirl around the edges, before withdrawing his finger and popping it into his mouth, sucking all of the peanut butter off and swallowing it quickly. Then, he left the house as quietly as possible and walked a good distance away, out to a main road.

Maybe someday, he reflected as he set down his guitar in favor of sticking his hand out, thumb up in an attempt to get picked up, he’d settle down. Maybe he’d find a beautiful girl he wanted to be with for more than one night, and they’d complete the American dream. 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.

Dan recoiled at the thought. Yeah, right. He’d never want that life. What could be better than drifting?

Dan snapped out of his daze as an eighteen-wheeler slowed down and pulled over. The driver opened up his cab. “Where ya headed?” He spoke with a heavy Southern accent. Dan didn’t really know where he was now, but he was sure it wasn’t anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line. Too cold. 

“Anywhere.” Dan replied agreeably, obeying the summons and climbing carefully up the steep steps of the truck. It was hard to ride in the tiny cab with his big guitar case, and it took a bit of maneuvering to get his long limbs and his possessions all settled. “Thanks, man.”

The trick driver took a long drag of his cigarette. He was overweight, wearing an old tee shirt with a deer on it and coffee-stained jeans. He even had a baseball cap, like all the truckers in movies. “I can drop yeh at the next exit, bout four-hundred mile. That suit yeh?”

Dan nodded. He’d much prefer an exit to being dropped off on some nameless highway where it’d be impossible to get his bearings. “I appreciate it.” He settled back into the seat, noticing that country was playing on the radio. It was then that he realized with a heavy heart that he’d neglected to fill his canteen at Shauna’s place. It was completely empty. Hopefully, there’d be a water fountain at his destination.

“Hitchhikers sure do make things innerestin.” The driver replied as the truck roared into life and lurched back onto the highway.

Some conversation passed between the two of them, but it wasn’t long before Dan was yawning, starting to nod off as he was lured to sleep by the roll of the truck. He wasn’t sure falling asleep near a stranger was a good idea, but exhaustion won over caution, and, soon enough, Dan was passed out in his seat, oblivious to the world flying by outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Dan said once that his mom guilted him into never stealing again, but hey, sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.
> 
> Also, ew Dan, sticking your fingers in somebody's peanut butter jar. That's just unhygienic.


	3. If Hunger Dictates

Dan awoke quite suddenly as the large truck shifted downward. The driver didn’t seem too pleased that Dan had fallen asleep either, if the look on his face was any indication. The lean man ran a hand through his messy curls. He knew it was rude as a hitchhiker to fall asleep on the person kind enough to give you a ride, but he honestly couldn’t help it. It’s not as if the soft country ballads had helped very much.

“We’re almost at the exit, buddy.” The driver said sourly.

“Thanks, man.” Dan replied, gathering his stuff up in preparation to get out of the truck’s cab. He didn’t want to put the other man through any more inconveniences.

Very rarely did Dan feel like a waste of space, but one of those times was while hitchhiking.

Dan watched out the window as the truck carefully pulled into the docking station for large vehicles. It wasn’t his first time riding in a big rig, and he was familiar with the drill. Trucks weren’t allowed to park anywhere near the actual exit’s attractions, but Dan could see a gas station and the golden arches of a McDonald’s some ways away, easily within walking distance.

Dan pulled some coins out of his pocket as he unbuckled to offer to the driver. It was only common courtesy to do something to repay the person driving you, after all, and Dan usually tried to give at least five dollars if he could. “For your trouble. Thanks again.”

To his surprise, the truck driver waved his hand away. “Keep it. Y’look like y’need it more’n I do.”

Dan blinked, withdrawing his hand and pocketing the change again. “Um…have a good day, then. Safe driving.” He clumsily opened the cab, still a little stunned. Even though the driver clearly didn’t appreciate Dan falling asleep, he refused a tip. That almost never happened to him.

The driver grunted as Dan climbed down. The drifter pulled his backpack on over his pointy shoulders and lifted up his guitar, feeling the muscles in his arm flex as they shifted to carry the weight efficiently. If he had the money, he’d invest in a case he could sling across his body. But he didn’t, and a lot of those cases were fabric; not suitable for his purposes, since he used the case to collect tips while he panhandled.

Despite the illusion of distance, the walk to the exit’s attractions wasn’t so bad, and the day was nice, almost spring-like weather; not too hot, nor too cold. And people said global warming was a myth. It was still winter!

Still, the drifter was enjoying the weather. He loved the way the wind blew through his hair, getting some strands in his face admittedly, and how it was just cold enough that he wasn’t sweating in his jacket. It would be nice enough outside that he could find a park with plenty of benches to sleep on for the evening, and hopefully, he could find a nice place to stand and play his guitar. 

He reflected that the first day in a new city was always the hardest. It was difficult to predict human traffic trends, and, depending on what day of the week it was, there could be more or less traffic in any given spot. Not to mention any local laws; Dan had spent a few nights in police stations before he was able to charm his way out, or a kind soul paid his bail. 

Prison food was certainly not the best quality, but it was food. 

Dan was honestly ashamed when his stomach started growling at the thought of prison food, of all things. If he weren’t so hungry, the notion would probably make him nauseous.

Finally, he reached the McDonald’s. Embarrassingly enough, he was out of breath, and his vision was blurry in the corners. Dan stopped to rest on a lip of concrete in front of one of the windows, setting down his guitar heavily. He hadn’t gotten a change to replace his string yet, and he’d have to do that before moving on. Maybe there was a chance he’d be able to eat first.

Dan hated fast food as a rule, not for any particular reason, but just because it was greasy and tasted like cardboard to him. But beggars can’t be choosers, and fast food was cheap and usually filling. Dan reached into his pocket and counted his remaining money. He had enough to get something cheap, so, with his breath now back, he picked up his guitar again and went inside.

He ended up getting a chicken sandwich and a parfait, which was probably not a good combination of food to put in your stomach at the best of times, but, as we’ve said previously, beggars can’t be choosers. It was supposedly food, after all.

Dan sat down at a booth towards the back with his food, setting the items out on the shiny plastic table. His hands began to shake as he unwrapped the sandwich, his mouth watering despite the fact that grease was already sticking to the pads of his fingers. Despite all the rumors about what McDonald’s actually put in their food, it didn’t look gross to Dan at all. 

Well, it maybe looked a little gross. The bun looked squished, the chicken patty looked more like a chicken nugget that had been run over by three trucks, and there was mayonnaise leaking everywhere. But it smelled so much better than it looked, and Dan’s eyes fluttered closed as his stomach practically groaned.

Finally! Food!

Dan picked up the sandwich and exercised great restraint as he took his first bite. It was hard not to just stuff his face, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. The sandwich, thankfully, tasted better than it looked, even though Dan could feel the grease sticking to his tongue and the roof of his mouth after he swallowed. But what was he supposed to do? You’d be hard-pressed to judge a starving man, and it would be even more impossible to find a starving man who would care to hear anything about how McDonald’s wasn’t healthy and they put goose poop in their burgers, or something equally deplorable.

Dan did his best to savor this meal. He hadn’t eaten for a while, and the heaviness of the sandwich was making him feel lazy. He watched the cars go by idly, sizing up the people that walked in and out of the rest stop. He watched a few children playing on the grassy hill on the other side of the parking lot, no doubt stretching their legs after a tortuous car ride, and a woman with a tiny while dog walking the animal up and down until it finally stopped being distracted long enough to pee. 

It was peaceful and, oddly, the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. He hadn’t realized how much stress had built up over time until, seated in that booth, his muscles finally began to relax. 

Dan finished the sandwich and sighed, sitting back against the booth. A combination of the heavy, greasy chicken patty and the slow pace he’d eaten it at caused him to feel full. He didn’t particularly want to eat the parfait anymore, but he couldn’t take it with him, seeing as it wouldn’t keep and might just possibly explode in his backpack, and he;d paid for it already. Besides, who knew when he’d get a chance to eat again?

Dan opened the parfait and mixed up the fruit and yogurt with the little plastic spoon that came with it. As he took his first bite, he could feel his stomach protesting that it was too full to fit any more food, but he ignored it. The parfait was small; he could finish it no problem. Though he let himself eat a little quicker to give his stomach less time to think about what was entering it. 

When he was finished, he muffled a burp and stood up, stretching. His stomach did feel uncomfortably tight, but the feeling would pass once he was able to digest a little. Dan headed to the bathroom to take a piss and fill up his canteen. As he washed his hands, he happened to look at himself in the mirror.

Being homeless had not been kind to him, that was certain. Deep purple grooves had taken up residence under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed and thin, his wrists and arms nearly skeletal. His entire being was muscle; he was sure he could attribute any weight he had to that alone. His clothes had certainly seen better days, his jeans ripped in places that weren’t on purpose and stained with dirt and grass. His tee shirt was faded and had a rip along the seam where shoulder met sleeve. But it was a Def Leopard tee he’d found by chance in a thrift shop; no way was he giving it up. His spare tee shirt was a Rush tee, also a thrift store find. Dan made a note to get himself a pair of jeans, maybe one closer to his size. Many pairs of pants he found were at least two sizes too big in the waist, or too small length-wise. He was pretty sure his spare pair were women’s jeans. Not that it mattered much, though the difference in pocket size was irritating.

Not to mention, of course, that he was skinny as hell. He was sure that, if he were to go to the doctor’s for a check-up, someone would surely yell at him about it. There were already a fair amount of girls he’d pulled that commented on it, except he wasn’t sure if “man, I wish I could be as skinny as you are!” was negative or not. They said it like it was a good thing; he certainly didn’t think so.

Dan forced himself to look away from his reflection. It was so different from when he’d spoked weed back in the day. At least then, he hadn’t been able to see his ribs without sucking in… He cupped his big hands under the faucet to catch water there and drank deeply until his thirst was quenched. Then, he went outside.

The sun was warm, and the food in his tummy made him feel sleepy, not to mention that his black jacket attracted the sun’s strong rays. Dan drifted in a blissful daze over to the grassy hill he’d watched kids playing on and dogs peeing on moments before. Finding a suitable spot, he flopped down inelegantly onto the grass below him, feeling the way it tickled him, even through his jeans. He really should get to fixing his guitar, but he lay back instead, the grass pricking his shoulders as he watched the clouds glide lazily across the sky. Dan’s eyes grew heavy, and he couldn’t help closing them, his mind as free as the cool breeze, happy to wander wherever it pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being a poet, I guess.
> 
> We're gonna break all kinds of canon and timeline rules, so there's that. Just...shhh, let it happen. It's gonna be fine. I promise.


	4. A Place to Sing

“Hey, buddy!”

Dan grunted, shielding his eyes from the sun, frowning as he looked up at the offending voice. An angry middle-aged man was standing over him in an aggressive stance, hands on his hips. He was that “I played football in college, but haven’t gone to the gym since” body type that was all the rage according to women’s magazines. Behind him, a woman about his age was holding a toddler on one arm and the hand of a little boy who looked about seven with the other. The woman looked slightly worried, but the little boy looked curious.

“This aint just for you, you know,” The man frowned. He was clearly trying to avoid cursing around his kids.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dan fumbled for his things and stood up quickly. He was taller than the other man, but certainly not stronger, and he avoided making eye contact.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops,” The man went on. Dan just wanted to be done with this whole encounter so he could get on his way. And his guitar still needed fixing, goddamn it. “What do you have to say for yourself, ya stupid hippie?”

“Sorry.” Dan repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

“That’s what I thought.” The man stepped aside to let Dan pass, though the taller man definitely heard him say, “fuckin freeloadin prick” under his breath.

He honestly tried not to get angry, because there would always be people like that in the world. And Dan had met his fair share of assholes who would spit on him and yell at him and, on rare occasions, even cause him physical harm, because they were so obsessed over the idea that the homeless were stealing their tax dollars, or whatever.

He wasn’t gonna let this guy get to his head.

Dan found a bench and sat down. The green metal was hot under his ass, but it was a good enough place to repair his guitar. He set down the case and unzipped his backpack, carefully opening the package of strings and taking one out. Changing the strings was like meditation for him. It was simple and mindless and he didn’t have to think about it at all.

Dan pushed the broken string into the guitar, then loosened the two strings nearby. He slid his hand into the guitar to pull out the bridge pin and took the broken string with him through the guitar. He started humming to himself, mentally planning a set list that was a good mix of songs he’d written himself, and songs that would be familiar to his potential audience. 

He had learned that taking requests was lucrative, and whenever he could, he went to nearby libraries to use their computers so he could listen to whatever songs were popular in case he was asked to play them. Despite not being able to read music, he had a good ear for musical notes, so he was usually able to learn songs quickly if he practiced hard enough.

Dan pulled the string tight and set the guitar down against his lap with a satisfied smile. His mind tended to wander while he was looking at nothing, and he let his thoughts trail off to where they wanted to be. Judging by the position of the sun, he hadn’t been sleeping long, but the weather had gotten slightly cold since he’d got here.

Dan let out a neutral sigh and packed away his guitar, zipping up his backpack again. Then, he got up and went out behind the McDonald’s to see if he could find some road signs that could tell him where he was.

~

Dan had been walking for what felt like hours. It was getting colder with the coming evening, and Dan regretted not taking out his hat and scarf when he’d restrung his guitar. The nipping breeze was making his ears hurt.

He was too cold and tired to try panhandling right now. His best bet was to find a place to sleep and get up bright and early tomorrow. 

Though there were plenty of stores around, it was clear to Dan that this was a poorer area. The storefronts all had faded paint and neon “OPEN” signs with only two letters that worked, or flickered sickeningly due to faulty wiring. There were cars on either side of the road, rushing by in both directions, and most of the activity seemed to center around a sizable Barnes and Noble on the other side of the street. 

Dan watched the activity surrounding the busy bookstore for a moment, leaning against a street sign. That would be a good place to perform tomorrow. Book lovers were sometimes music lovers, and maybe there would be a few teens who could spare a few bills.

Dan thought about trying it right now, but the idea of having to set up shop, as it were, when there was so much foot traffic intimidated him. And, since he was tired from walking all the way from the rest stop to here, he wouldn’t be able to be a good enough showman to get any attention anyway. 

Dan pushed himself off the street sign and forced his tired feet to carry him a little bit further. It was much easier to convince his legs to carry him when he’d actually eaten today, and it wasn’t long before he found an alleyway to rest his head.

He passed another homeless person, bundled under a tattered old blanket and mumbling to themselves. He smiled to himself; maybe they were strung out.

Dan found a decently clean area of the alleyway and set his stuff down. He pulled out his hat and scarf from his backpack, more thrift shop finds. The hat was a ratty old Giants beanie that Dan had actually paid a quarter to wash out before wearing in case of lice, and the scarf was just a simple black, faded piece of fabric. But both items of clothing were warm.

Dan curled his upper body over the guitar case, using it as a pillow. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but at least no one would try to steal it. Or, if they did, he’d be able to feel it moving out from under him. He could feel the handle pushing uncomfortably into his stomach, and the hard case was none too gentle on his ribs. Dan wriggled his toes, trying to get some feeling back into his feet, and then pillowed his head on his arms.

As darkness fell, Dan began to shiver, wishing he had a blanket. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep very well tonight, and made a note to find the nearest thrift shop or charity as soon as he was done performing tomorrow. 

He needed to invest in a blanket. At this point, it could be a My Little Pony blanket and he wouldn’t even care.

Dan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, feeling his body shiver as the cold winds that came with the winter’s night washed over him like ocean waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan, you idiot. Why don't you have a blanket? *Shakes fist in frustration*
> 
> He's obviously hopeless as a homeless person, lol.


	5. Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Since Dan hadn’t slept very well, he was up at the crack of dawn. The town around him was still sleepy, and the soft purring of cars on the road wasn’t as frequent now as it had been last night. 

Danny reached into his bag and found his toothbrush and toothpaste, souvenirs from a kind soul in one of the cities he’d visited. Dental hygiene shouldn’t be a priority, but Dan hated the taste of sleep-breath, and he sang for his supper besides. Fresh breath was more pleasant overall.

He brushed without wasting any water and spat onto the cobblestones. Then, he pulled himself to his feet, stretching until his shoulder cracked pleasantly. He still felt tired due to the poor night’s sleep he’d subjected himself to, but he couldn’t afford even the cheapest cup of coffee at the moment.

Dan crossed the sleepy road and set his guitar case down, opening it up and lifting his old friend out. He slung the worn strap over his head, settling it in the hollow of his shoulder, and set about tuning the old girl. With his foot, he turned the open case around, a hint for anyone passing by. His backpack was tucked between his legs to deter any thieves from stealing his shit. 

The morning was cold, and Danny had to stop while tuning to pull his hat down further over his ears, tucking his wild curls behind his ears so he could see. A few patrons tossed some coins his way, a blessing since he hadn’t even started performing yet. As he finished tuning, Dan slipped into an instrumental to warm up. He didn’t want to start singing just yet, as it was still pretty early, and the last thing he wanted was to annoy anyone. 

A little old woman in a bulky fur coat walking a comically large black dog was his first audience member of the day. She stopped to watch him, and he acknowledged her, smiling kindly. He was still playing instrumental songs, just to keep it quiet and peaceful, but already, he could feel that he was losing himself to the beat. His eyes closed, his hips swayed, his fingers danced up and down the guitar. It was nice.

When he’d finished the song, the old lady was gone. Dan didn’t even know if she’d tipped him or not.

As the sun started to rise, Dan cracked his knuckles in preparation for his first song of the day. He believed in starting off strong and familiar. He cleared his throat, running through a tongue twister to warm up his vocal chords.

“One smart fellow, he felt smart, one smart fellow, he felt smart.” Dan picked up the pace until he was saying it at an impressively brisk pace. That is, until he tripped over his words while tightening a string. “One fart—damn it!” He giggled to himself, and went right ahead and finished the incorrect tongue twister: “One fart smeller, he smelled fart.” God, he was such a fuckin twelve year old.

A teenager passed him like a zombie, keys in her hand. She was obviously here to open the bookstore. Dan watched her for a moment, then settled his fingers over the strings. He then began playing “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”

It turned out the music was fitting for the small, poor town waking up. Bakeries and cafes opened their doors to waiting customers, people walked dogs, couples in apartments had coffee on their balconies, college kids and high schoolers gathered in droves by the bus stop.

Danny slipped into the lyrics that he knew well, singing the tune easily. “Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back.” Luckily for him, a few of the college students tossed coins his way, and he nodded at them in thanks. “Even while we sleep, we will find you acting on your best behavior, turn your back on Mother Nature. Everybody wants to rule the world.”

Two businessmen walking by with Bluetooth in their ears and coffee in their hands, slipped a few bills into his case. When one of them blew away, one of the high school students retrieved it and placed it safely back inside, adding a few coins to it. Dan smiled in thanks as he played the next part of the song.

“It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.”

A mother with two kids strapped into a running stroller paused to listen. Dan smiled at her, especially as he noticed her putting a twenty dollar bill into his case.

“There’s a room where the light won’t find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. When they do, I’ll be right behind you. So glad we’ve almost made it, so sad we had to fade it, everybody wants to rule the world.”

A lesbian couple holding hands stopped beside the mother with children to watch him. The woman side-eyed them, and went on her way before Dan had gotten to the next round of lyrics. Feeling sorry for them, Dan turned slightly and smiled at them.

“I can’t stand this indecision, married with a lack of vision. Everybody wants to rule the world. Say that you’ll never, never, never need it. One headline, why believe it? Everybody wants to rule the world.” 

As he played the song out, the couple and several other people in their vicinity applauded. Dan gave a bow, thanking everyone who came near to put money in his case. From what he could see, he was doing well so far. He even spotted a few larger bills here and there. That would help a lot.

As the traffic dissipated, Dan scooped up the bills and pocketed them. He knew from experience that some people liked to pretend they were giving money, but actually were stealing from his earnings. As much as he liked to think the best of people, even a dollar could mean the difference between being able to buy food or extra clothing or supplies. Unfortunately, money was too important to blindly trust the world with.

~

Several hours had passed, and Dan’s fingers were starting to ache. He’d been playing consecutively since he’d set up shop, and he’d even witnessed a rush of traffic as people breezed by for quick business lunches in the cafes nearby. Despite this area looking destitute, a lot of commerce seemed to pass by here, and he could see a Holiday Inn in the distance if he squinted, so clearly, there were out-of-towners here, too.

The sky had been looking like rain all day, and just as Dan was wondering if he could pack it in for today, it began to rain. No, it began to flood. It was a mighty downpour, and Dan and to jump back against the wall of the bookstore to avoid getting soaked. He supposed this was as good a time as ever to count his winnings.

“Shit,” Danny breathed reverently. He’d made almost sixty dollars in what was probably about seven hours. Of course he didn’t have a watch, and there were no public clocks around, so he couldn’t be sure, not to mention that the cloudy day had made it impossible to tell time by the sun. He just had to go by how he felt physically, which was almost as good of an indicator as anything else used to tell time.

Wearily, Dan slid down against the wall, careful not to bump his guitar against the ground. He let out a tired sigh as his weight shifted off his feet and the muscles in his legs cried out. Danny tilted his head back against the side of the building and closed his eyes. It was still pretty cold, but not as cold as the night had been, and it was so tempting just to fall asleep right then and there…

But he knew the employees in the bookstore wouldn’t appreciate that. The homeless weren’t the sort of coming attraction you’d want to see when you’re trying to decide where to spend your money.

Just as he was about to get up anyway, his stomach rumbled. Right. All the cafes and bakeries around, with their doors wide open, letting enchanting scents out their open doors didn’t exactly help mute his appetite. 

The bakery across the street had divine double chocolate cupcakes displayed in the window, and Danny licked his lips weakly. Cupcakes didn’t exactly count as food, but Dan hadn’t had sweets in…hell, who even knew how long? The money was burning a hole in his pocket, and his tummy was whispering to him that surely one cupcake couldn’t hurt…

There was, of course, the rain problem. If he left the shelter of the awning, he’d be soaked. 

Dan sighed. The truth was that he was too hungry and too tired to continue performing today. What he should do is try to find a drug store and a charity shop. He was low on Advil and he needed to get a blanket for the cold weather. Of course, a few razors wouldn’t go amiss either; he needed to shave before he grew a full-out beard.

Danny took a swig of water from his canteen and ran a hand over his stomach. “Soon, old friend,” he promised, putting away his guitar and canteen and lifting his backpack and the case up once again. 

Dan took a deep breath before ducking out into the pouring rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overused song is overused. Sorry, it was too perfect. (Side note, I watched a YouTube video of someone playing Everybody Wants to Rule the World on acoustic guitar the other day, and it blew my mind.)
> 
> Also, I used the tongue twister from part 63 of Wind Waker that tripped Arin up. It's okay, buddy. I was never good at tongue twisters, either.


	6. Bad Luck

Dan stood in the bathroom of the drugstore, a packet of razors in his hand. He opened it carefully and lifted the razor up, placing it gently against his skin. Watching himself closely in the mirror, he dragged it down the scruff growing on his jaw, trying not to cut himself. It was hard when his hands were shaking, his fingers cramped and overworked due to playing guitar for hours.

Danny had gone a little overboard on his spending. He’d bought himself a new notebook to write in and a package of pens, as well as several different painkillers and one of those Starbucks drinks that came in a bottle. He’d also decided to eat one of the protein bars he’d stolen from…what was her name? Shania? Sasha? It was cheaper than spending money on food, and he’d actually forgotten that he had them.

“Fuck!” Dan cursed, pulling the razor away from his face as blood dribbled down his chin. “Sonofabitch!” He threw the razor violently into the sink as he grabbed for paper towels to stop the bleeding. He was lucky it was a single-occupancy bathroom, but even so, he couldn’t spend too long in here. 

Danny disposed of the razor primly and refilled his canteen, throwing away the bloody paper towels as well. He grumbled to himself, cursing his shaking hands, and sighed, running a hand through his hair once he was done. He looked a bit like a half-drowned dog.

Dan packed up his things and left the bathroom. By now, it was starting to get dark, and the streets looked somehow more imposing than they had during the day. The drifter shuddered, suddenly nervous. He slipped his bag over his wrist and pocketed his free hand, hoping to make himself seem small and insignificant. 

Loud, boisterous voices made Dan jump, and he started to walk faster. He just needed to duck into an alley, or into a store…but everything was closed now. The lively, busy town was already going to sleep. And Dan thought that the voices were quickly fading into loud footsteps, rapidly gaining on him.

Without thinking, Danny broke into a run. And as he did so, he heard the footsteps behind him break into a run, too. He knew it was a bad idea to run, but he had to try to get away as fast as he could. It reminded him of being a kid in school, of being bullied…

Only grown men were so much worse than little boys.

Danny didn’t have anywhere to run, and his lungs were burning from exertion, feet and stomach and legs aching. Worse yet, it was difficult to run very fast while carrying a guitar case. He turned to look back over his shoulder, which was useless anyway because of his hair blocking the way, and he tripped and fell onto the concrete below, his chest crashing into the pavement, bony hips aching.

“Ow,” he hissed, trying to sit up as shadows surrounded him, voices laughing.

“Lookee here,” one of the men growled, his speech slurred from drink. “It’s a little freeloadin prick.”

Dan curled up, wincing as he received a meaty kick to the thigh.

“Whaddya have to say for yourself, ya fuckin hippie?” A different voice this time, significantly more sober. 

Dan pulled his arms up over his head to protect himself as he felt another kick to his lower back. He winced, trying to force himself to stay curled up, to not expose his chest and stomach to their abuse.

“Get up and fight back!” One of the men tugged him up by his hair, making Danny yowl in pain, scrambling to try to get away. He was punched in the gut, hard, for his efforts, making his groan and bow his back to tend to his stomach. He had felt the punch right in his kidneys, and he was in so much pain that his breath was coming in shallow, short spurts.

“Wimpy motherfucker.” The other man threw him, and Dan let go of his guitar case. He scrambled for it as the men stood around laughing.

Danny grabbed his guitar case with shaking hands, curling up around it as the men seized his backpack and dumped it out onto the pavement. Some of his pens rolled away, and one of his notebooks fell into a puddle.

He thought that if this were a movie, one of two scenarios would happen. Either he’d get up and fight back, or some kind stranger would come along and save him.

But this wasn’t a movie. In his best shape, he wouldn’t be able to take down four larger and stronger opponents, even if said opponents were drunk. He probably couldn’t fight off a kid in his condition. And no one wanted to stand up to four drunk burly men for the sake of a stranger.

Danny watched helplessly as the men stomped on all of his possessions with their heavy feet. He was lucky his guitar was safe, for it seemed as if they weren’t going to stop until all of his things were destroyed.

“Hey,” one of them noticed, and Dan could feel the offender’s breath on his neck. “He’s got money on ‘im!”

A fire suddenly came to life inside Dan, and he turned around, his eyes wild, nose bleeding from the stress of the situation and, honestly, from being knocked about. “Get away from me!” He growled. “Leave me alone!”

He instantly regretted his self-defense when the most muscular man in the group smirked. “Looks like the street rat finally decided to grow a pair, eh, boys?” He leaned in, yanking Dan’s head back by grabbing his hair. 

Danny yelped and flailed his arms, trying to fight back, but a big hand encircled both his slim wrists and forced them above his head. Another pair of hands dug into his pockets, finding his money and taking all the bills. Dan kicked wildly, but a heavy weight pressed on one leg, and he fell still, panting, his vision starting to go black.

Goddamnit. Not now!

The men laughed and dropped him to the ground. Dan crumpled in a limp heap, not daring to move until the men had gone.

Finally, the coast was clear, the night as silent as death. Dan slowly began to move again, wincing at the flare of pain in his back and the persistent throbbing on his scalp. He rubbed his wrists, trying to get feeling back in them, and coughed as he moved, still able to feel the blow to his kidneys. 

Weakly, Dan gathered up his backpack. His old notebook that was full of lyrics and poems and ideas was soaked through, but he couldn’t let it go. He found his canteen and salvaged what he could find of his pens. The plastic bag had a glass bottle in it, which had exploded when he’d fell, leaving the bag only full of coffee, shards of glass, and razors. Head aching, Dan looked sorrowfully at the destroyed food. The bars could have lasted for a week, at least. Longer, if he rationed them out. 

Now, they weren’t fit for human consumption. Danny nearly vomited just looking at the destroyed mess.

The drifter wearily pulled himself to his feet, using a piece of paper to wipe the blood from his nose. He stumbled into the nearest alley and tumbled down into a weary heap. As he tilted his head back to look up at the stars, a gentle rain began to fall.

Dan closed his eyes and started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dan. Things always get worse before they get better!


	7. Misery Loves Company

Dan didn’t remember falling asleep, but he was jerked out of a nightmare all the same.

He’d been in the ocean, being chased by a giant shark with razor sharp teeth that was laughing at him as it gained ground. Dan had been swimming as fast as he could go, but the shark was gaining on him. The creature had been just about to chomp on his legs…

Danny shuddered, pulling his jacket closed. If the zipper on the damn thing wasn’t broken, he probably would zipper it up, to protect him against the cold. He was still shaking, and his skin felt hot, like the time he’d been subjected to too much heat and sunshine and got heatstroke when he was a kid. He realized dimly that he probably had a fever, and cursed to himself.

This was not the time to get sick.

Dan curled his knees into his chest, but even though he was trying valiantly to get warm, nothing seemed to help the tremors passing through his body. If he could sweat, he’d be covered in the sticky substance by now. As it was, he could feel the heat radiating off his skin, but also, at the same time, the insane need to get warm.

Danny lay down against his guitar case and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Exhaustion got the better of him in the end, and he fell back into a fitful slumber.

~

The next few days and nights were a blur to Dan. He had a terrible fever that made his muscles ache and his head heavy. Everything hurt, and his dreams were wild, filled with too much color and sensation. When he was awake, he felt as if he was dreaming, and every time he tried to sleep, it was like a loud noise was about to sound just behind him. All of his food had been destroyed and he had no money and barely any water. For the first time since he’d chosen this life for himself, Danny felt like he was going to die.

As time dragged on in that endless day that things happen to feel like if you haven’t slept in a while, Dan’s stomach began to plague him. He was so empty, so incredibly hungry, that he almost didn’t want to eat anymore. His stomach would fight him periodically, twisting and cramping up painfully, making Danny wince. Sometimes, he would feel so nauseous that he would lean off to the side, thinking he was going to be ill, but only end up dry-heaving. 

“Please, God,” Dan would periodically whimper at the sky, “please, God, let me die.” He’d never been a believer, so maybe his prayer was fruitless. But it comforted him that there was maybe, just maybe, a chance that some higher power was listening.

Sometimes, passersby would take pity on him, tossing money into his lap. Danny wished they would give him food…God, he was so hungry. His head swam with fever, his body aching, stomach cramping up from being so empty. He felt so weak that he could barely move at all.

Just as he thought that it was the end, however, he started to, miraculously, heal. It wasn’t by much, not at all, but he could stand without being in so much pain, and his temperature went down enough that his brain was slightly less foggy. Dan chalked it all up to his will to live. 

This was his dream, after all. To build up the spirits of others and see the world. And he’d do it, too. Someday, he’d get to go to Japan and Europe and the islands.

Today, he’d get to the coffee shop, because he could just afford a cup of coffee and a doughnut.

The coffee was not the best he’d ever had, and the amount of sugar in the doughnut made him nauseous, but he was alive and breathing again.

And it was a very fortunate thing indeed, because the air smelled of snow.

Dan had to get out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: "This Chapter Sucks."


	8. Common Encounters

Dan didn’t know how long he’d been ill, he just knew that enough time had passed for him to be significantly hungry.

The coffee and doughnut was a meal too far in the past to give him any strength. Not that meals carried over like that, especially when one walked around and spent hours on one’s feet, singing and playing guitar like Dan did, but he liked to pretend that larger meals would carry him further, fuel him longer.

He’d spent the whole day walking, getting away from the town that had been simultaneously welcoming and disagreeable, and he’d managed to find a suburb that housed a rather nice park that he could panhandle in.

The problem, of course, was that being sick had, unfortunately, taken a lot out of him. He was weaker than usual, the muscles in his body protesting every movement of every joint, and his usually brisk walking pace was significantly more sluggish. To his dismay, he’d had to stop to rest quite frequently as he walked, unable to get from one block to the other without sitting down and catching his breath.

Danny hated to admit it, but he needed a larger meal to get him back in top condition. The absolute ache in his stomach told him that three square meals would probably be nice, but he knew that he’d likely have to settle for one.

As Dan stood under the streetlamp, waiting and watching, he thought about the abundance of diners back home in Jersey. His mind wandered to visions of breakfast spreads. He couldn’t help it; breakfast was his favorite meal of the day, and a luxury he could rarely afford. His mouth began to water as he thought of crisp diner pancakes, so fluffy and chewy, drowned in syrup and lathered up with sweet butter that came in a little ceramic bowl that looked like a candle holder. Pancakes really were his weakness, and they would be easily welcomed by a hungry tummy. 

Danny licked his lips, closing his eyes. In his mind, he was sitting in a booth at a diner, a generous stack of pancakes before him. It was like a cartoon; the stack seemed to tower above his head. He imagined taking a bite, chewing and swallowing, the pancake settling in his stomach like snow settling on the ground. As he ate, he imagined his hunger abating, replaced with a comforting fullness, his stomach comically and unrealistically distended. Mmm…

Dan’s stomach rumbling brought him back to cruel reality. Right, he was starving and weak and had no money to speak of. That’s why he was doing…this.

The streets were quiet, and his competition was getting restless. Dan hated being desperate enough to turn to prostitution, but…needs must. It was, if nothing else, a quick way to earn cash. 

Dan leaned back against the brick wall, trying to adapt a carelessly sexy pose and demeanor. The problem, of course, was that he felt neither careless nor sexy. He was tired and dizzy and his knees were shaking already with the effort of supporting his, admittedly slight, weight. No, scratch that; he was far beyond “slight.” Any cloud in the sky probably weighed more than he did at this point. A strong wind would likely blow him away!

What if he had wings? That would be such a pleasant way to travel.

The familiar sound of a car pulling up to the curb alerted Dan and the few girls working tonight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few of the women adjusting their bras and opening their jackets to expose their tits. The car was idling, and Dan slid carefully out of his pose, pressing his shoulders against the cold brick, his head tilting back to expose his neck. He didn’t have tits or an ass to give him an advantage. He had to rely on being a pretty face, which worked a lot more often than you’d expect.

The window of the car opened, and Dan could see that his potential customer was a man. Not uncommon; the art of pulling sex workers was almost exclusively a male sport. He wasn’t at all surprised when the guy made eye contact with him and beckoned him closer.

Dan slid off the wall, turning his back and bending slowly to gather his things. He didn’t have an ass to speak of, but he’d learned that presenting anything at all was very effective. He straightened up and slid forward was a sexy, confident smirk. If being a performer made him anything, it was a good actor; Dan didn’t feel the least bit sexy or confident. He actually felt rather ill.

Danny set down his guitar with a grunt and leaned on the window of the car, taking note of the details and license plate just in case. He knew the other girls would, too. Part of street worker culture was keeping a good tab on your clients.

His eyes strayed to the man in the car and he smiled lazily, long eyelashes fluttering. “Hey, big boy,” he purred, pitching his voice low to sound more seductive. “You’re on my to-do list tonight.” He glanced pointedly at the bulge he could see in the other man’s jeans and looked straight into his eyes, slowly licking his lips hungrily.

The man groaned, his head falling back against the leather seat of his car. Dan grinned with pride; he’d succeeded, then. His customer seemed not much older than he was, though his hair was quite a lot greyer than Danny’s. “How much?” He asked, voice husky with arousal.

Danny tilted his head, still smiling a serpentine smile. “I only give head, darling.” To tease, he lifted his thumb to his lips and licked the pad of it, closing his eyes and moaning slightly. “A hundred’s the standard rate.” The girls had kindly told him.

“Fuck,” the other man hissed as Dan sucked his thumb, hollowing his cheeks around the digit before withdrawing it. “Okay, fine. Shit.” He groaned, palming himself through his jeans. “What’s your name, cutie?”

“Darcy,” Dan replied automatically. He didn’t even like Pride and Prejudice, but the name suited his purposes well enough.

“Get in.” The man ordered.

Danny hesitated, unsure of what to do. The other man grumbled. “Listen, buddy, I’m a regular. All the girls know me. You can put your shit in the back. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The words were not as comforting as you could imagine. Men were gentle with women thanks to internalized misogyny, but could be rough with their own gender, perceiving men as tough and able to take more abuse. But at least he knew that the customer wouldn’t drive off. Besides, at least three pairs of eyes were watching.

Dan slid off the window and opened the back of the car, putting his things on the nice leather seat. Then, he climbed into the front seat. The car was small, and he had to curl his legs inward to even fit. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but Dan could hear Rush playing on the radio. Hmm. At least this guy had decent taste in tunes.

His customer put the car in drive and slid slowly out of sight of the streetlamps. A black car turned off in the dark would be less likely to be seen by any passersby. Going in the shadows to do his work wasn’t an uncommon practice either, and Dan was, unfortunately, used to it.

Once they were parked, the car turned off, the man moved his seat away from the steering wheel to give Dan easier access. He unzipped his jeans, revealing that he wasn’t wearing underwear. “You’re going to swallow.” The man’s pale eyes found Dan’s.

Danny nodded, licking his lips. Sucking dick wasn’t something he minded, and yes, he was bisexual, but he leaned more towards women than men. Most of the time, he couldn’t really find a dick he liked or, more importantly, a man he liked enough to go along with that dick. But he was good at head, and that was really all that mattered.

There was the dick, long and curved and uncircumcised. Dan shifted so that he was lying over the middle of the car, supporting himself on his arms. The center console was still digging into his ribs and tummy, but the relative discomfort didn’t matter.

Dan wet his lips and set to work.

~

About twenty minutes later, Danny was rewarded with a belly full of cum and one hundred dollars. His throat was sure, and he could still taste cum on his tongue, but there it was. Two crisp fifties in his palm.

Dan picked his things up off the sidewalk and wandered off. Fifty dollars and then some would get him a night in a cheap motel for sure.   
It would be so nice to have a warm bed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could it be? Our boy's having a bit of luck at last!


	9. Fresh Linen

As was just Dan’s luck, his hotel room ended up costing closer to a hundred dollars than fifty, as he’d been hoping. It was probably because this hotel was more like a three-star than his usual dive-y motels. 

Strangely enough, the warm cum in his stomach had simulated a meal, and Danny was able to fall asleep quite easily and get a decent amount of sleep for once. General exhaustion probably played a huge part in knocking him out too, however.

As soon as he awoke, Dan took the chance to shower. The hotel advertised that they provided complimentary toiletries, so he checked his own supply and made a note to call down for anything he didn’t have as he dried his hair. He was still naked, just a towl around his waist, his skin hot from the warm shower, and as he caught his reflection in the mirror over the desk, he drew in a sharp breath. 

Fuck, he was skinny. The lines of his ribs were literal grooves against his skin instead of looking like artful shading around his chest, and he could see the way his ribs protected his lungs quite clearly. His stomach was almost entirely concave, a sharp dip separating it from his chest and hips. Dan winced and turned away, but he knew the knobs on his spine were visible. He’d felt them in the shower. 

He’d seen all of this cleaning himself, but at least there, under the steam, he could pretend it wasn’t real. Now, facing it in the light of day…

Dan threw on his “Rush” tee shirt, embarrassed by his skinny form, and called the front desk. Check-out was in a few hours, but the heat radiating off his skin from the hot shower made him feel lazy. He couldn’t deny that seeing himself that thin had affected him, making him feel weak and frail. 

He should eat…but he felt so goddamn nauseous. He looked like a fucking ghost. And what was there to eat, anyway? He’d already eaten the mints that were left on his pillows.

There was a coffee machine in the room, and Danny decided to take advantage. He dressed and measured out enough water for the instant coffee while he waited for room service to bring up his toiletries. Mmm…room service… Dan cautiously rubbed a hand across his stomach, wincing in discomfort. He hadn’t been able to afford room service in…forever. Fuck.

To distract himself, Danny turned on the television. Frustrated that only a few channels worked, he settled for the weather. When there was a knock, he went to get it, thanking the employee kindly for his free toiletries and retreating back inside his room. As he was packing his things away, including the extra soap, shampoo, and conditioner that was standard in hotel rooms, something on the forecast attracted his attention.

“Fuck,” Danny groaned, gulping down the slimy instant coffee.  
The forecast called for a massive fucking snowstorm. Well, shit.

Dan looked outside the window of his hotel. He felt dizzy looking down from even just the second floor, but he tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. A park! Perfect! It was a little late for him to just be setting up to play, but hopefully, he’d make enough to afford another night in the hotel, and then he’d be safe from the storm!

Maybe he’d even make a little more than he needed, and he could actually get room service. Mmm. Dan whimpered as his stomach growled, his mouth watering as he thought of all the crazy, over-the-top dishes on the room service menu. Lobster bisque with soft, sweet bread, delectable pastas garnished with seafood sauce, shrimp cocktail, decadent desserts that all looked way too pretty to eat, fancy drinks named after the owners of the hotel…

Even if he could only afford a gin and tonic, alcohol would soothe the ache in his belly for sure.

Danny wasted no time checking out and heading across the street towards the park, heart racing with excitement, his breath catching in his throat. He was moving far too quickly, liquid-filled stomach swirling, head full of lead, dizzy as hell and unstable on his feet. But he had to. He had to make money.

He opened up his case and started tuning his guitar. The park was nearly empty, and Danny’s stomach dropped. What if he didn’t make any money at all? What then? He’d surely perish in the snow. The drifter bit his lip hard to keep the tears at bay. His mind was already flooding with “I died a failure;” he was condemning himself too quickly.

“Breathe, Dan,” He murmured to himself, taking in a deep breath. “You’re gonna be okay.” He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. The first song that came to mind wasn’t upbeat. Mellow wasn’t the way he liked to start performing, but even though he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, he was too tired to put on much of a show.

He fingers slipped easily into the opening chords of “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd, a song usually reserved for the middle of his set, or to draw in a somber crowd. As his fingers worked over the chords, he searched his mind for the lyrics. He was usually good at multitasking, but his brain was foggy. His starved brain felt like a stoned brain, struggling to organize itself but being too lazy to do so at the same time. 

“So, so you think you can tell heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?” 

Dan’s wrist was aching already, and he silently cursed his stupid, weakened body. Thankfully, a passing teenager on a skateboard stopped to listen, and as Dan kept singing, went to reach for his wallet. 

“Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?” 

The teen left a few dollars for him and went on his way. Feeling slightly like he was dreaming, Danny didn’t even acknowledge it like he usually did, his eyes falling to watch his fingers sliding across the frets, making sure he was playing the right notes. Shit, why was he struggling so much? Most of these songs were muscle memory to him; that’s why he picked them. Instead, his brain was trudging through molasses, one step behind his fingers as he moved over each note. 

“How I wish, how I wish you were here. We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl…year after year.” Fuck, what was the next line? “Running over the same old ground, and how we found the same old fears. Wish you were here.”

He played the song out to an audience of none, his ears hurting because he’d forgotten to put on his hat, his body cold already in the certainly much colder air. 

Nobody was going to come to the park, and he was too tired to keep playing.

Danny looked into his guitar case and cursed. Three dollars.

He was so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst! Poor Danny. :'(
> 
> The chapter title is a reference to my uncle's book, Roosters. One of the chapters is called "Fresh Linen." Or, at least it was...maybe he changed it.
> 
> Anyway, if you're looking for a campy read, check it out! It's free to download right now!
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Roosters-Brian-Vadimsky-ebook/dp/B01BXS88QA/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1488252571&sr=8-7&keywords=roosters+book
> 
> Okay, I swear, there will be no more self promotion!!! ...just go check out my shit too, please??
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Good-Queens-Daughter-Sylvie-Vadimsky/dp/1505701082/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1488252646&sr=8-1&keywords=the+good+queen%27s+daughter
> 
> ...okay, NOW I'm done. I promise.


	10. Just Barely Holding On

This was the end for Dan Avidan.

The biggest snowstorm Danny had witnessed since he was a little kid growing up in Jersey had come on with a vengeance just moments ago. At first, it was a few tiny flurries, but the intensity of the falling snow picked up quickly and, coupled with the biting, howling winds and the quickly darkening sky, it made for a dangerous night to be homeless.

Worse yet, it made it even more dangerous to be homeless and starving. 

Dan’s toes were so cold that he could barely feel them, his well-worn sneakers no match for the building blanket of snow that was steadily climbing up his ankles. He had to keep switching the hand holding his guitar case, as he had no gloves to speak of, and the air was nipping at every exposed area of skin. His face was hot from being blown against, and sometimes, he had to use his free hand to hold onto his hat to keep it from flying off his head. His legs ached, he could barely see with all the snow in front of his eyes, and it was getting harder and harder for him to walk. He thought this trail would lead him out to a residential neighborhood where he could take shelter in a kid’s playhouse or tool shed until the worst of the storm was over, but that seemed not to be the case. What the fuck…? Where was he, even?

Dan turned around as the sound of a branch snapping caught his attention, making him jump. He didn’t look where he was going and smacked head-on into a tree.

The shock of the impact was lost on his exhausted body. Danny could only groan weakly, leaning into the cold, rough bark scraping against his cheek. His mind was warring, two sides fighting for dominance. Part of his brain was urging him to keep walking and not to give up, but the other part was urging him to stop and rest…just for a second. It wasn’t giving up! Not really! Just resting.

“I…I can’t…” Dan mumbled, his lips cold, barely coherent. “Have to…move on…can’t…die here…” He pushed himself off the tree resolutely and trudged on.

He couldn’t deny that he felt weak, however. He’d clearly gone too long without a proper meal… “Stop that. You ate a week ago,” he told himself, his voice barely above a whisper. But that day a week ago…probably longer…that was the first real “meal” he’d had that month. How long he went hungry added up over time…he didn’t realize that he’d been starving himself to death… “No…stop thinking like that, God damn it…”

A low-hanging branch whipped him across the face. The pain stung, and, suddenly, Dan couldn’t take it anymore. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he realized that he was homesick.

He missed Avi and Debbie, his mom and dad. He missed his grandmother, his little sister, his dog. He missed his friends. He missed Jersey. 

He missed smoking pot, getting stupid high and attacked by the munchies, countless chips and cookies disappearing down his gullet. He never thought back then about what a precious commodity food was. Hell, even clean underwear, while a pain to wash, was a luxury!

He missed four walls, central heating, hot chocolate under a warm blanket, watching snow fall down outside. He missed going to bed with a full stomach, without a care in the world.

Fuck this. Fuck his crazy dream. Killing himself like this wasn’t the way to be a musician. Maybe he could try to form a band…but what to call it? He’d always wanted to make people laugh…

Maybe he’d dance around in sparkly spandex, blue, of course, a cape flying out behind him. He’d get lots of laughs, get high off the cheering crowds.

Maybe he’d even sell out a show. Imagine that! His scrawny, non-existent ass dancing around in spandex singing about dicks selling out the Hammerstein Ballroom!

Delirious, Danny started giggling to himself. And, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, he promised himself that if he got out of this alive, he’d bite the bullet and go home. He’d head home, spend a week eating every goddamn thing that looked even remotely like food until he couldn’t see his ribs anymore, and then try to get a band together. What would he call it? Maybe something catchy, like…

Like Ninja Sex Party. Hell yeah.

Dan closed his eyes, just for a second, but that was all it took for his knees to give out. He fell down into the snow, a crumpled heap, and lay there in defeat.

Strangely enough, he felt…warm.

“Avi?” Dan murmured, nuzzling into the snow like it was a pillow. “Deb? Dana? Mom?” He sighed. “I’ll see you all…very soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.O 
> 
> :O
> 
> ...
> 
> Anyway, "Only One" by Skyhill is officially my favorite song??? Them beats, yo. So sick. And the lyrics?? So bomb. Don't even get me started. God damn.


	11. Arin

Dan woke up with a start, breathing heavily. He’d been having that same nightmare about a shark chasing him, except this time, there was a shark-copter, some weird flying shark creature that lowered down over the surface of the water and picked him up, drawing him ever closer to its giant, gaping maw, while Dan was flailing, screaming, protesting that he wasn’t worth eating! He was far too stringy and bony and…!

And…this didn’t look like a forest.

Dan had pushed himself up so that he looked like he was doing the cobra yoga pose, but his arms shook violently, protesting at having to hold his weight, so he lowered himself back down again carefully. He realized dully that he was on a couch, a rather large and comfortable one, at that. It was soft and warm and clearly capable of fitting his entire body stretched out. Dan blinked, looking around. The walls were a rather generic white-grey color, a few posters taking up the wall space; he recognized Sailor Moon and Megaman, but there were some written in Japanese that made his brain hurt, so he looked away. Shelves on the walls housed many different action figures from all sorts of series. Transformers, Megaman again, some anime he didn’t recognize…

Dan’s head spun and he closed his eyes, groaning quietly. He was covered in a blanket, he realized, and he shivered, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. 

Wait a minute. His shirt was falling off his shoulder. And it wasn’t black. It was mint green. What the…? And his pants weren’t even…they were at least two sizes too big! He rolled over carefully onto his side, fumbling with the drawstring on the pajamas, pulling it tight against him. Where the hell was he? And why…

Danny inhaled and sighed deeply, mouth watering and stomach groaning with want. Food. Breakfast food. Eggs. He licked his lips, sighing heavily. Was he dead? Was this heaven? If so, he hoped he’d be able to feel full. He hadn’t eaten in…God knows how long. “Oof,” Dan huffed quietly.

Presently, a soft light came on in the room, making Dan sit up. A young man, maybe only a few years younger than himself, stood in the doorway in sweatpants and a black tee shirt. He looked slightly muscular, but comfortably padded with fat (Dan was jealous). His hair was tied back into a ponytail, mostly a soft mahogany brown, but one streak dyed blonde. His eyes were a deep brown, and his features were colored with surprise, mouth comically open, his beard neatly trimmed to frame it nicely. It made Dan reach to scratch his own messy stubble self-consciously. Shaving had not been top priority for a long time.

“Oh, you’re up!” The man chuckled easily, sauntering into the room. Dan’s eyes followed the tray of food in his arms, barely listening to anything he was saying. “Sorry, did I wake you? I thought you might like something to eat.”

Danny trapped his tongue between his teeth, every instinct in his body screaming with want. The smell of the eggs and toast on the inviting tray before him had curled up in his nose, staunchly refusing to leave. He only snapped out of his trance when impatient fingers were snapped in his face. “Heellooo? Earth to stranger?” The man asked, his voice rising an octave in false impatience. “I figured you’d want something to eat. Can you sit up?”

“Huh…? Oh, uh…” Dan winced, shifting his reluctant, aching body carefully, closing his eyes and hissing in pain as his overworked muscles were forced into action. Warm hands helped to guide him against the couch, and, finally, Dan could sit up and meet his savior face to face. “Uh…thanks,” he said lamely, not sure really what else to say. 90% of his brain was screaming “FOOD” at him loudly.

The man giggled adorably and handed over a plate piled high with eggs and a fork. “We can talk and eat at the same time. Jesus, dude, you’re lucky Mochi got out and I had to go looking for him, otherwise you might’ve died out there!”

Dan checked back into reality to find that he’d somehow vacuumed most of the eggs up off his plate. His stomach felt a little better, but he quickly shoveled the rest of the eggs into his mouth, too fucking hungry to care that it was impolite. 

The man across from him smiled reassuringly and, without hesitation, handed Danny his plate of eggs, which he’d barely touched. Dan ate with vigor, stomach begging for more even after two servings were gone. The kind stranger handed him a plate piled high with toast prepared various ways, some with jam and others with butter. Dan didn’t care: food was goddamn food.

“My name’s Arin, by the way,” the stranger—Arin—went on. “While I was out looking for Mochi, I found you passed out in the snow. You would’ve frozen to death in that cold, and I couldn’t just leave you, so I picked you up and carried you here.”

“Mochi?” Dan asked between bites of toast.

“My cat.” Arin explained.

“Oh.” Dan nervously ran a hand through his hair, probably getting crumbs in it, but he didn’t care right now. “Did you find your cat?”

“Yeah, he’s safe and sound, the little fucker,” Arin said affectionately. There was a distant “mrao” from the next room over, as if Mochi was being indignant. “So, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Dan questioned, chomping through the last slice of toast, fidgeting with the plate in his lap afterwards. “Uh…my name’s…Dan.” He thought about giving a fake name, but his brain was too tired to supply one. Besides, he got the sense this dude was genuine. “I’ve, uh…” He looked away shyly, tugging at his long curls. “I’ve been…homeless, for a while now. Like, at least a year. Maybe two. I, uh…I wanna perform, so I travel with my guitar and…” Danny froze, straightening up. “My guitar! My stuff!” He made to get up, but his vision went black, his legs unresponsive, and he fell back into the plush couch. 

“Hey, hey,” Arin leaned forward, his warm hands gently soothing him. “It’s okay, man. I brought your stuff, too! Well, you were wearing your backpack, but…” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I didn’t really have anywhere to put it, so I left it all by the door.”

Dan relaxed slightly, and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That guitar…it’s all I have.” He blushed, realizing he’d basically admitted the extent of his poverty to a stranger. 

But Arin chuckled kindly. “Dude, I totally get it. My family was really poor growing up, and my Gameboy was, like, my best friend.” His friendly features turned sad suddenly. “You, uh…” He cleared his throat. “You’re skin and bones, dude. How the hell…I mean,” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “I probably would’ve keeled over like, just losing ten fucking pounds, man.”

Dan giggled weakly despite himself, pulling his knees up to his chest, the warm blanket tucked under his chin. “I dunno, man. Adrenaline, I guess. Just keeps ya goin.” He rolled his shoulders.

“It must’ve been torture,” Arin groaned. “I can’t even go three hours without eating! Oh, speaking of,” he stood up. “I’ve got more food in the kitchen. You must be starving.”

“No, I—I’m good,” Dan lied…and not very well, at that. He was starving, even after two helpings of eggs. He was ashamed, but…something about being rescued from death had really spiked his appetite. 

Arin rolled his eyes, clearly not believing the lie. “I’ll be right back.” The tray was whisked away, all the empty plates clattering together.

Dan sighed deeply, just as exhausted as he was hungry. He was about to doze off when a sudden weight on his legs surprised him. He opened his eyes and saw a fluffy white cat with stumpy little legs getting comfortable on his lap. He smiled; he loved animals so much. He reached out a shaky hand to let the cat sniff his open palm, then set about petting it, feeling the animal’s purring vibrate throughout his body. “Are you Mochi?” He asked the cat. In response, the animal licked his finger with its sandpaper tongue.

“That’s Mimi,” Arin said, returning with more food. Dan wet his lips; deep-dish pizza? Holy shit.

“Oh,” Dan said, dazed. “Hey, Mimi.” He scratched the cat gently behind her ears, smiling warmly as she purred. 

“Mimi’s kinda dumb, but she’ll cuddle the shit outta ya,” Arin smiled, petting the cat on Dan’s lap as he handed over a slice. “You don’t happen to be allergic…?”

“Nah.” Dan beamed. “I shouldn’t really have nuts...but it’s not an allergy thing, so. No biggie.” He took a huge bite and hummed. “This is so fucking delicious.”

Arin beamed in return. “I’m so glad, man.” He took a bite of his own slice.

There was silence for a while. Arin moved his chair and turned on the TV. They watched some stupid movie together as they ate, Dan managing to eat most of the pizza on his own. Being with this guy already felt comfortable. Arin was so funny, and the way he could create characters with his voice, going on about the young main character on screen “going on a butthole-sniffing adventure,” among other things, making Danny laugh out loud until his abs hurt and snort into his water a few times. 

By the time the movie was over and Dan had finished eating, he felt like he was with an old friend instead of a relative stranger. 

The older man yawned, settling back into the arm of the couch lazily as he watched Arin clean up. His eyelids were heavy, the food in his stomach making him feel comfortable and warm. He wasn’t quite full, surprisingly, but he felt oddly content, better than he had in weeks. In years.

Arin hesitated. “I’ve, uh…got a spare bedroom…if you wanna move there.”

Dan yawned again. “Thanks, but I’m about to pass out. Think I’ll just crash here.” His tone sounded so casual. Wow. He hoped that he didn’t sound like a complete dick.

Arin grinned lopsidedly. “Alright, dude. Just so you know, though, the cats think that’s their bed.” He turned the light off. “Goodnight.”

“Night. And…” Dan ran a hand over his bicep nervously. “…thank you again for saving my life. I owe you…well, my fucking life!”

Arin snorted. “’S cool, man.” He smiled tenderly in the dark. “Get some sleep, Dan.”

“Mm. Thanks, Arin.”

It didn’t take long for Danny to fall asleep, and he didn’t even wake up when the cats jumped up to fall asleep on his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast updates? You know what that means?
> 
> It means I'm writing everything very late at night, so it's rushed and it sucks!!!! Woo!
> 
> Hey, if somehow you don't think this sucks, maybe leave a comment? Let me know? We cool? Thanks, brosef!


	12. You Can Stay

Dan’s stomach woke him up with its persistent ache and restless grumbling. Reluctantly, the older man sat up, stretching, and trying to sort out the kinks in his neck, back, and shoulders from sleeping weird. 

Now that he’d survived the snowstorm, he should keep the promise he’d made to himself. Danny chuckled, shaking his head. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to go home! Sure, this drifter life he’d chosen was difficult, and of course he’d always dreamed about being in a real band, but, even starving, he couldn’t go home and admit he’d failed. His sense of pride wouldn’t let him.

Dan got off the couch. The house was quiet, even though the sun shining in through the window told him it was late morning already. Maybe Arin was still asleep, and he could sneak away, just like he had always done. His heart was heavy at the thought as he crossed the room to his backpack. He unzipped it, only to realize that his clothes were gone.

His heart beat faster in his chest, feeling all of a sudden like a caged animal. Of course. His savior wanted something in return. They always did; that’s how the world worked. Sex for a shower, the going rate for a blowjob, his body for a decent meal.

Arin seemed like such a nice guy, but, then again, they all did. Dan shuddered. If he was lucky, Arin would be as kind and gentle in the bedroom as he was with everything else. 

Defeated and feeling slightly nauseous, Dan sat back down on the couch. The cats were gone, and he had never felt so alone. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders, trying to tamp down the wave of panic that made it hard to breathe. Why was he getting so worked up about this? It was just sex. He’d done it a million times before, had bottomed for doms, topped for subs, abd everything in between. He hadn’t felt anything even close to this kind of panic. Why, then, was he approaching the situation with Arin this way?

Lost in his internal panic, Dan didn’t notice the note in front of him until one of the cats (this one with the gray patches must’ve been Mochi) jumped up onto the coffee table, starting him out of his thoughts. It was folded in a little square and addressed to him. Taking a deep breath, Dan removed one arm from his blanket cocoon and lifted it up off the table. His hands trembled as he read it, scared of what it might say.

“Dear Dan,

I hope it’s okay, but I put your clothes in the wash for you. They reek! I set out some of my old clothes for you, so I hope they fit okay. 

The snow is crazy deep, and they’ve closed everything in the area, so it’s probably best that you stay here a while. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’re hungry, and the shower and stuff is free for you to use if you want. If you need me, I’m working in the basement.

-Arin”

Dan couldn’t help smiling at the letter. Arin’s personality really shone through. The drifter sighed at himself and shook his head. Why did he feel all warm and fuzzy inside, just from a stupid letter? Was he really that fucking lonely?

Slowly, Dan returned to his backpack and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. He didn’t actually know the layout of Arin’s house, so he tread cautiously out into the hallway. There was an open door that led into a bedroom with a closed door right next to it. Dan guessed these doors led to the guest bedroom and Arin’s bedroom respectfully. More posters on the wall. Further down the hall were two more doors, the rooms seemingly across from each other. One room looked like an office with a computer and some fancy tablet set-up. The other room was the bathroom.

Dan brushed his teeth and took a piss. He debated taking a shower, but he hadn’t yet found the clothes Arin had laid out for him, so he figured he could put it off for a while. He was technically clean thanks to his recent stay in a hotel, anyway.

As he walked back down the hall, he heard something that sounded vaguely like pop music, but he couldn’t understand the lyrics. They were in another language, but not one with which he was immediately familiar, like French or Spanish. Curious, he followed the sound towards the back of the house. There, all by itself, was a door that led, probably, to the basement. 

Dan reached out his hand to open the door, then hesitated. Did he really want to see what Arin was doing down there? His stomach was prompting him to go check out the kitchen instead, but curiosity got the better of him. 

Danny walked down the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the worn wood. The music got louder as he descended, though he still couldn’t see anything because the staircase was surrounded by a wall on either side.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, his feet touched worn carpeting and he saw Arin, bobbing his head to the music and sitting on a stool in front of a long, suspended workbench along the wall, bent over something in his hands. The music was quite loud, so Dan doubted Arin had heard him come down. He cleared his throat and called out: “Hey!”

“Oh!” Arin looked up as he called back. “Hey!” He reached for a stereo remote nearby and turned the volume down a bit as Danny walked forward, wondering what Arin was working on. He stopped, however, noticing that beyond Arin’s workspace was…

Well, it was a tiny little town!

Stunned, Dan walked over to look at the tiny town. It was resting on a large wooden table, and there were mountains and trees and little houses and tiny people. As Dan looked around, he even saw tiny dogs and cats, little squirrels, and miniature food in tiny bakery windows. He saw tiny people, and even a few videogame characters. There was even a lake or river, the false surface of it shiny with paint. His hand reached out for a tiny Link figure riding in a strange-looking boat, but Arin’s voice startled him.

“Don’t touch that!” It was a bit of an angry tone, and Dan recoiled instantly as Arin wiped his hands off on a nearby towel and walked over. Dan noticed that there was a sink behind him. 

“Sorry,” he apologized as Arin drew near. He was afraid suddenly that his savior might hit him, or something.

But Arin was smiling again, running a hand through his pulled back hair. “No, dude, it’s cool. I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just that everything is kinda delicate. You have to be really careful, or you knock shit over. Hell, I do it all the time.” He reached over and plucked the little Link out of the ship. “You can look at him if you want.”

“Thanks.” Dan turned the tiny figure over in his hand curiously. He was amazed at the detail put into Link’s face, the expression of determination on its tiny features. He looked up to find Arin watching him, clearly trying not to look proud. Dan smiled and handed back the figure. “It’s amazing.” He watched Arin lean over the tiny village to put Link back in his spot. “Did you…” he blinked, looking around. “Did you…make all these?”

Arin nodded. “Yep! I run a modest little business on Etsy selling miniatures, and I get commissioned for digital art sometimes.” He shrugged modestly.

Dan thought to himself that Arin must have a substantial income if he could afford his own house and then some, but he didn’t say anything. “That’s really cool, man,” he said instead. “I’m shit at art. I can’t draw, and I think my hands would tremble too much if I tried to work with tiny things.”

Arin slid back onto the stool. “Anyone can learn to draw, man. You just gotta practice.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Uh huh.” He pocketed his hands, shivering a little. The rest of the house was nice and toasty warm, but the basement held the chill from outdoors. Arin seemed to notice this, for he immediately shucked off his sweatshirt, handing it to Dan. 

“Here.”

“Dude,” Dan waved it off. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Arin gave him a look that for some reason made Danny hot behind the ears. “Just take it, man. It’s just a sweatshirt.”

“Th-thanks,” Dan tried valiantly not to blush as he took the sweatshirt from Arin and wrapped himself up in it. While it fit Arin nicely, it was hilariously large on him. And pink. But the inside was lined with fleece, and it smelled like clay and sweat and aftershave. Dan zipped up the sweatshirt, ducking his head to hide his blush. What the hell? Why was he acting like this? It’s like he was crushing on this guy, or something.

Arin had his chin resting on his hand when Dan looked up, the deep brown eyes watching him. The younger man was frowning thoughtfully, his brow furrowed slightly. Dan giggled nervously. “What?”

Arin sat up. “Sorry, I zoned the fuck out.”

There was silence between them for a while, just the sound of foreign pop music to disturb them. It might’ve been a nice moment…if Dan’s stomach didn’t decide to ruin it by growling loudly.

Dan winced in pain as Arin slid off the stool in concern. “Hey, man, you should have something to eat.” His hand encircled Dan’s bicep, the warmth seeming to slide up Dan’s shoulder. “What do you want? I’ll cook it for you.”

Dan ran a hand through his hair, chuckling nervously. “I…I don’t wanna be any trouble…”

“It’s cool. I forgot to eat breakfast when I got up.” Arin reassured him, patting Dan’s shoulder companionably and brushing past him on his way up the stairs. Dan just caught the scent of aftershave on his skin, and he realized the sweatshirt had the same scent. 

Arin’s scent.

Fuck, maybe he did have a crush on this guy. Or maybe it was just Stockholm Syndrome. 

Dan decided to let himself think it was the latter for now. He’d had plenty of crushes on women in his lifetime, but never really with men. Sure, he liked them, was attracted to them, but not like this. Not usually.

“You comin?” Arin asked, turning around on the steps.

Dan smiled. “Yeah.” He snuggled into the sweatshirt and followed Arin upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was something I forgot to mention...
> 
> Oh well, I'll figure it out later. ;P


	13. Creature Comforts

Arin had decided to make pancakes. Dan insisted on helping, even though the only things he knew how to make were mac and cheese and soup. Luckily, Arin was quite bossy in the kitchen, and Dan was happy to follow his instructions. However, by the time Arin was pouring the batter onto the hot pan, Danny found himself fatigued. The younger man took note of this and frowned, biting his lip. 

“I shouldn’t have let you help. I’m sorry. You’re probably malnourished as fuck, so you’re gonna be pretty weak for a while.”

“I did wanna help,” Dan pointed out, but since his legs felt like jello and his head was all muzzy, he decided he’d take Arin up on the offer and sit down in one of the chairs at the table, sighing in relief as his muscles relaxed.

“Nope! Skinny-minis don’t do chores. Fatty-watties do chores.” Arin sing-songed.

Danny snorted. “Come on, dude. You’re not fat.” His host had what Dan would call a stocky build, the cube to his cylinder. Sure, he was a bit pudgy, but Dan liked that. Clearly, Arin loved to cook, and a good cook is never skinny. At least, that’s what Dan had been led to believe.

Arin blushed a little. He didn’t even know if that counted as a compliment…but he’d take it. “Heh. Thanks.” He flipped a pancake skillfully.

“No problem.” Dan smiled lazily, slouching slightly in the chair to take his weight off his tailbone. He always had trouble sitting on hard surfaces due to his nonexistent ass.

The smell of warm, freshly prepared pancakes started to fill the air, and Danny threw his head back with a soft moan as his stomach growled. He was able to soothe it by rubbing his palm over his midsection, but thankfully, he wouldn’t have to wait too long. To distract himself, he turned his focus to his host.

“I kinda saw your art setup.”

“Oh yeah?” Arin asked casually. “If you want, I can show you how it works, let you see some of my animations.”

Dan’s eyes widened. “Dude! You do animation?”

Arin flipped a pancake skillfully onto the growing stack next to him. He was determined to give Dan as many pancakes as possible; he’d been able to feel the older man’s ribs and spine when carrying him. That wasn’t healthy in the slightest. 

The excitement in Dan’s voice caught him off guard, and he ducked his heads shyly as he poured more batter onto the pan. “Yeah, I have my own YouTube channel where I post ‘em and stuff. I don’t have a huge following, really. Most of my money for that comes from my friend Ross. I do animations for his YouTube show, Steam Train.”

Some of that went over Danny’s head, but he was still impressed. “That’s cool!”

Arin chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it is. My first passion is miniatures, though. My dream is to get to make and take care of an entire village of miniatures for somebody. That’d be rad.”

Dan nodded, pushing his hair away from his face absently. He could relate to the younger man’s big dreams, too. “Yeah, I’d love to get out of the country one day. Just see the world, y’know? Go to Japan and Scotland…shit like that.”

“Dude, I’ve always wanted to go to Japan!” Arin turned to him with a big, doofy grin on his face, eyes wide like an excited child. “We should go together!”

Dan jumped, startled by Arin’s enthusiasm. His mind swirled at the proposition. Travel with someone else? Share the journey with another person? It seemed unthinkable; he was a lone wolf at heart. Besides, traveling with a stranger that he barely knew? Whose intentions so far were unclear?

Arin saw the way the drifter reacted and quickly tried to correct his statements. He was trying to ignore the way Dan’s reaction stung. He wasn’t going to let himself crush on this guy…even if he was a handsome dude. “Uh, I mean…not right now, obviously…and not if you don’t want to…”

Dan relaxed slightly and crossed his legs. He offered a small smile, his eyelids drooping a little. His body didn’t know if it wanted to eat or sleep more, that was certain.

Arin cleared his throat awkwardly and finished up the pancakes. With a bit of flourish, he presented Dan with five pancakes, while he himself only had three. He set out whipped cream, syrup, and jam, not knowing how Dan liked his pancakes.

Danny sat up as he was served, his stomach quickly jumping to the front of his mind. It was grumbling, and his whole body ached with want. Now that he wasn’t on the streets anymore, adrenaline wasn’t playing a big part in keeping him alert and on his toes. His mind flashed an image at him of his body seen in the hotel mirror as he grabbed the syrup and proceeded to drown his pancakes in it. As he shook up the whipped cream, he remembered the look of his ribs stark against his chest, his stomach concave between his chest and hips, the gnawing ache of emptiness, the weakness he’d felt even after playing only one song…

He shook up the whipped cream to use it, thinking about Arin’s stocky frame compared to his own. God, if he could gain enough weight to cover his ribs… Shit, he didn’t even want to know what he weighed right now. He cut into his pancakes with vigor and began eating immediately.

Arin watched Dan subtly over his own modest meal, wetting his lips unconsciously as the drifter shoveled down the pancakes like they were his last meal. Arin couldn’t blame Dan for eating like a starving man for, as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was. He’d been able to feel Dan’s ribs and spine while carrying him and, if he was honest, he was pretty sure that the guitar and case had been heavier than Dan.

Arin forked his pancakes and smiled to himself. There was no way in hell Dan was gonna walk out of his house looking like a skeleton. The younger man would feel bad for letting his kink come out to play a little, but honestly, Dan gaining a few pounds was in both of their best interests.

Dan hummed in orgasmic pleasure around the pancakes in his mouth. He was about halfway through the stack he’d been given and seemed to only just clue in on the taste now. He swallowed what was in his mouth, licking his lips and eagerly going in for more. “These pancakes are fucking amazing, dude.”

Arin blushed. “They’re nothing special…but thanks, man.”

“They taste pretty special to me,” Dan grinned before stuffing his face again and sighing in contentment, rubbing his stomach as a lazy smile spread over his face. The heavy meal was starting to make him feel a little full, which was conflicting. His mind was prompting him to finish his meal (after all, there was only one pancake left), but his tummy was getting full and that in turn was making him very sleepy. 

As if Arin could sense his dilemma, he looked up. “You’re not gonna finish that?”

Dan shrugged, the outward expression of his internal dilemma. 

Arin pouted. “That’s not good. You need to clear your plate, Daniel.”

Dan swallowed, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that hearing his full name wasn’t arousing as fuck, especially when said in a pleading tone of voice. Holy shit. “I, uh…I don’t know if I can…” He admitted shyly, ducking his head.

Arin raised an eyebrow. It seemed like Dan was receptive to coaxing. He’d figure out what to do about that later. Right now, however… “I watched you eat pretty much an entire pizza all on your own, Dan. I’m pretty sure you can eat one pancake.”

Dan hummed in thought. God, he really had done that, hadn’t he? And all of that warm food in his tummy had put him right to sleep, too. It was so tempting to get to that full and sleepy space again. Besides, Arin was right. It was just one pancake. Dan lifted up his fork again and cut a bite. He heard Arin praising him, and he flushed. Praise was definitely a kink of his.

“That’s it, Dan,” Arin encouraged, his own meal forgotten in favor of getting Dan to finish his. “Eat up. Fuck, you must be so hungry. I can’t imagine that, not having a meal guaranteed.”

Dan thought of the day when he’d so badly wanted a cupcake from a bakery window, how hungry he’d been then, and whimpered, closing his eyes as he ate. Was he…was he getting aroused? 

Was that part of Arin’s plan? To make him food and then fuck him when he was too lazy and compliant to fight back?

Dan’s heart beat faster in a slight panic…but then he remembered Arin’s voice, soft and kind and encouraging.

He was starting to think Arin wasn’t keeping him around as a sex toy.

Two more bites. Dan took a deep breath. The pajama pants were biting into his stomach where he’d tied them, and that made his stomach hurt a little. Two bites and he could adjust the drawstring…God, he wanted to fucking jack off.

Arin decided to let Dan have a moment. He got up to put his dishes away and clean up, but he watched Dan subtly via the reflection in the window. It was immensely satisfying to him to see that Dan’s stomach was just a bit distended. Arin blushed; he looked so cute with a belly.

Dan ate the last two pieces of pancake in one bite, only half-chewing it, swallowing it down as soon as he was sure it wouldn’t feel uncomfortable in his throat. Fuck, he was hard. And the thin material of the pajama pants wouldn’t hide it for long.

Blushing, Dan slipped out of the chair. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna take you up on that shower,” he said quickly. “And then…can I go back to bed?” Despite his need to hide his erection, he still paused to look at Arin over his shoulder, running a hand through his curls. 

Arin chuckled warmly. “Of course, dude. I’ll probably go back to the basement.”

“Y-yeah,” Dan stammered. “Okay, um…see you later.” He slipped off towards the bathroom to run a quick shower.

Arin smirked to himself, running a hand down towards his cock. Maybe he’d take this time to have a little fun, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here comes the kinky part, I guess.
> 
> If you didn't nope out at the first mention of feeding, you get a gold star. Yay!


	14. Do it Right

Dan awoke to the smell of food. It wasn’t something he was used to yet, being pulled gently out of sleep by fresh, homecooked scents that curled up in his nose and made his stomach growl with hunger. In the past, harsh cold winds or pounding rain, the smell of smoke, the sound of a car skidding in the road, an angry voice yelling at him to get out…those were what had woke him. He almost felt he didn’t deserve such comforts now. Really, who was he?

Danny shook himself of his depression. Food and time would fix everything. 

As he sat up, he realized that he was still wearing Arin’s sweatshirt. In the mindless haze of a post-orgasmic, post-shower pantomime, he must’ve put it back on with the rest of his clothes. Dan snuggled into the warm, soft fleece. Even though it was pastel pink, a color he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public, it was comfortable. Dan rubbed his jaw over the sleeve that had slipped down to cover his hand, frowning when he felt the scratch of a growing beard against it. Ick. He always thought facial hair made him look old.

Danny sat up on the bed and stretched with a grunt, trying valiantly to wake up his sleepy muscles. He yawned and ruffled up his hair out of habit. The ends and some of the tighter curls were still damp from his shower, and they felt cool against his neck.

Everything at breakfast had moved too fast, he thought. The two of them had seemed to be able to arouse each other and successfully get off, but…what did that mean? Thinking about it made Dan’s heart ache a little, like now that there had been a bit of sexiness between them, that was all they could be. 

Maybe part of him wanted that type of relationship from Arin, but…not all of him.

Dan’s eyes were attracted to a pile of clothes tossed haphazardly onto a chair standing sentinel by the closed door. Curious, he got up and lifted them up. These must be the clothes that Arin had fetched for him; certainly they weren’t his. 

Dan was about to turn around to change when he heard scratching at the door and a soft “mraow” from beyond. Chuckling, he turned the knob and let the cat in. It was Mimi, who immediately came inside and curled around his ankles.

Danny chuckled and knelt down carefully to scratch behind her ears. Mimi purred, closing her eyes and butting into his hand, occasionally licking him with her tongue. “If you want to cuddle,” he told her in a gentle scold, “you’ll have to wait. Your daddy’s making food that’s calling my name.” As if to back up that statement, his stomach growled loud enough for him to not only feel it, but hear it. Now reminded of his mission, he straightened up again, careful to step around Mimi, and unzipped the sweatshirt so he could change.

The shirt Arin had fetched him was clearly old, a waffle knit long sleeve with holes for thumbs and an unraveled hem. But it was comfortable and well-worn, and it fit Dan a little better than the shirt he’d been sleeping in. The jeans were clearly made for someone much larger, for they were a little baggy. These had clearly not been worn in, for they were also stiff. Dan found he didn’t have a belt. Even zipped up, these jeans were not going to work. So, he settled for the pajama pants. They were cozy and flannel and warm; good enough.

As Dan walked out and followed his nose to the kitchen, he noticed Arin was humming, back to him, as he cooked. Lasagna. The thin man wet his lips with a quiet sigh. God, he hadn’t had Italian food in forever. He reflected that he hadn’t really had actual food in forever…but that was besides the point.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse at first from disuse, raspy from sleep.

“Oh, hey,” Arin greeted, turning slightly. “I figured you might get up if I cooked. I was starting to worry.”

“Oh, was I sleeping long?” Dan asked. “’S okay. You can just shake me if you need me. I’m usually a light sleeper…guess I’m a little worn down.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, of course,” Arin went on. “But you should kinda be eating all the time. So you can get stronger.”

Dan rolled his shoulders neutrally. He felt better than he had in a while, though he supposed that he probably was quite weak and just not noticing it, because anything was an improvement to starvation. However, Arin’s words brought something to the forefront. “Ummm…about earlier…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Arin turned towards him. His hair was down, framing his face, his doe eyes big and soft and genuine. And he was wearing an apron and oven mitts. Dan took a double take. Fuck, it was actually really hard not to find him adorable. “I didn’t want you to think I was pressuring you, or anything. I kinda took advantage, and I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, no, no,” Dan hastened to explain, his hands out to stop Arin, then folding in around himself. “I, uh…well, we’re both consenting adults, I just…” He blushed. “I wanna…go slow. Get to know you. Um.” He looked up shyly, his hair hiding his face. “Is that…okay?”

“Psh,” Arin snorted, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, duh! I mean, I’ll do anything to get the chance to tap that sweet little ass of yours.” He winked, making Danny blush.

“You’re gonna be disappointed. I don’t have an ass.” But he smiled and settled down beside Arin, leaning against the counter. He was surprised that already, all of this seemed so familiar. He’d slotted into place with this stranger. They had a similar sense of humor, and both of them had big dreams that seemed so far out of reach.

Something occurred to Dan. “Are you out here by yourself, man?”

Arin nodded, sprinkling parmesan cheese over the top of the pan. “Yeah. It was my girlfriend, Suzy’s, idea to move out here, but when we broke up, she left to go pursue her dreams on her own.”

Dan frowned, reaching out to brush Arin’s arm lightly. “I’m sorry, man. That sounds awful.”

Arin shrugged. “I got used to it. I have the cats, and I talk to Ross and my other friend Barry over Skype a lot, so I don’t feel lonely.” He glanced at Dan as he reached for a knife. “What about you, though? You must be pretty lonely.”

“I guess,” Dan replied. “I used to be somewhere in the middle between being an introvert and an extrovert, but when I started traveling, my inner introvert took over. So I don’t really miss talking to people as much.”

“Oh,” Arin said. “I guess I’m like that, too, a bit.”

Dan smiled. “But I’m not tired out talking to you.”

“Me neither.” Arin finished cutting the lasagna and reached for some silverware in a nearby drawer. “Would you mind getting plates and cups out? They’re in the cabinet behind you.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Dan reached behind him and did as he was told, setting the table.

“What d’ya wanna drink?” Arin asked.

“Anything’s fine. It’s a little early for alcohol for me, though.”

“That suites me! I don’t drink.”

“I don’t really, either.”

They sat down and served themselves. Dan’s hunger only flared up as the food was set in front of him, and he swallowed to keep from drooling. “Sorry if I eat a bit fast,” he said. “When I see food, I…”

Arin waved him off. “Dude, it’s cool! I’m sure I’d pounce on my food, too, if I’d been going hungry as long as you have!”

Dan quirked his lips into a smile as he eagerly dug in. The lasagna was rich and cheesy and so good that he had to actually force himself not to moan with pleasure. “Jesus, Arin,” he breathed reverently, “this is so fuckin good.”

Arin snorted. “It’s nothin. Lasagna is basically mac and cheese.”

Danny laughed. “Well, I haven’t had food this good in a long time, so get used to hearing me praise your cooking!”  
The two men fell into a companionable silence as they ate, each lost in their own thoughts. It was when they both reached for seconds and their forks crossed paths that made them giggle.

“You first,” Arin offered.

“Thanks.” Dan took a large slice and Arin took his slice after. The carbs were making Dan a bit sleepy, but he honestly didn’t want to go back to bed, because it was late enough that he’d probably wake up in the middle of the night if he did so.

“Are you still cold?” Arin asked.

“Wha?” Dan looked down, and noticed he was still wearing Arin’s sweatshirt. “Oh. No. I mean, uh…” He blushed, looking away. “I guess I forgot I was wearing it. Are you cold?”

“Nah, I run a pretty even temperature.” Arin grinned. “You look pretty cute in it.”

Danny coughed nervously, and Arin giggled. 

“Sorry, was that too fast?”

“No…” Dan smiled. “I’m not…” He hesitated. “I guess I…”

Arin giggled. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to explain. It’s fine. I do just have that sense of humor, but I probably come on a bit strong.”

Dan studiously looked down at his food, not wanting to mention just yet that he was liking Arin’s straightforwardness. It was refreshing from all the pussyfooting around he was used to from past relationships. Less guesswork.

When they were finished eating, Danny stretched and got up with a sigh. He was very full, but it felt nice. Warm. Like wearing a heated blanket. Despite being tired, he felt energized, too, and he took Arin’s dishes from him.

“Let me wash up.”

“It’s okay…you don’t have to…”

“No, but I want to.” Dan softened his gaze as he gave a lopsided grin. “I actually like doing the dishes. It’s relaxing.”

Arin laughed. “All right, weirdo. Here.” He carefully handed over the rest of the dishes and Dan set to work. “You, uh…wanna watch a movie? Maybe play a game?”

“I haven’t picked up a videogame since the nineties,” Dan admitted, “but I’d love to watch you play!”

“You wanna see Windwaker?”

“Is that a Zelda game?”

“Yeah!”

“Sure! I love Zelda games!”

“Cool. I’ll go set it up.” Arin seemed really excited to show Dan the game, making Dan’s heart beat faster and his stomach flutter with butterflies. Arin’s enthusiasm was certainly catching.

Yeah, being in love wasn’t really so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? In MY fic? It's more likely than you think. //see every fic of mine ever T.T
> 
> More of Dan wearing Arin's clothes, because let me tell you, the two of them switching shirts was the gayest thing I have ever seen them do. Fuck.
> 
> Anyway...enjoy!


	15. Snowbound

Danny was getting restless. More snow had started falling overnight, piling on top of the already deep snow binding him to the house.

Arin’s home was nice. It was warm, there was plenty of food, a warm bed to sleep in, a comfy couch to rest on, and two cats to cuddle and play with if he got bored. And being in Arin’s company was easy, familiar, as if they were brothers, but with an added sexual tension that seemed less anxiety-inducing and more thrilling. It was the warm buzz every time they touched, soft looks exchanged across tables or rooms, their heads on each other’s shoulders.

Dan still felt quite weak, like every meal was getting him closer to being well, but wasn’t enough. When he stood up too quickly or turned his head too fast, his head would feel muzzy and his vision would fog up. Just climbing stairs made him tired, and anything more than a few bites of food had a somnolent effect. Despite this, wanderlust had rooted itself inside him, and his heart ached for the open road, new faces, new places, songs to sing, crowds to charm.

In a weird way, he didn’t feel quite himself without the constant traveling. Being a drifter had been his only identity for so long. To suddenly have that ripped from him, to be trapped, broke a part of him. 

On top of that, he was worried that Arin might somehow run out of food, and he would have been the one to cause Arin to starve. So even though Arin encouraged snacking, even doing it himself, Dan tried to stay out of the kitchen except at mealtimes, lest his stomach tempt him.

The day that Arin finally got around to doing laundry and handed him back his old clothes made Dan rejoice. He actually ran his fingers over the well-worn tee shirts, blinking back unshed tears, and ran the rough denim over his cheek, just to feel more at home. By that time, he’d been living with Arin for three days already.

Arin chuckled, watching him. “Sheesh, man, you’re like a cat or something.”

Dan, who had also shaved with a borrowed razor, set the clothes on his lap and looked away shyly. “Sorry…I’m not…” He clenched his fists. “Thank you.” 

After his customary nap, Dan changed into his Rush tee shirt and the old ripped jeans that felt like home. He found his worn belt and tightened it, noticing that he’d put on a little weight since he’d worn them last. While that was all to the good, it made Danny slightly nauseous. He’d seen himself, after all. He knew he wasn’t anywhere close to a healthy weight. And refusing to eat like a hobbit wasn’t helping.

Dan walked out to the living room and sunk into the couch with a heavy sigh. There was still a half hour until Arin would come up to make lunch, and he was already hungry, his empty stomach begging for food. The thin man tsked and flopped one arm weakly across his eyes. It was all too tempting to find Arin’s dessert cabinet, eat a pre-packaged brownie with sweet little candies on it, especially since dessert wasn’t something Arin indulged in often, due to trying to watch his figure.

Dan slid down until he was nearly hanging completely off the couch. His eyes fell on his guitar, and he hummed thoughtfully. He hadn’t played since he’d come here, and he missed it.

Getting to his feet at a measured pace, he crossed the room and lifted the case up. A subtle ache from sore muscles greeted him as he brought the case over to the couch and sat down, opening it and taking out his guitar, setting it comfortably across his knees.

He went through the motions of tuning it, the soft sounds already like music to his ears. He couldn’t help feeling the body of the instrument like a lover, memorizing her curves, the feel of her, her smell…

This guitar had been his traveling buddy since the very beginning. It never judged him, never intentionally hurt him, never mocked him. It had just existed, the most loyal of friends.

Dan slipped into a melody he’d written, singing softly so as not to disturb Arin.

“Why must I walk this road all alone? Is this how I turn my soul into stone? So I listen to the closing door. It’s much louder than it was before, like a vision of a foreign shore that calls you home.”

Broken hearts always did make for good song lyrics. Dan brushed his hair out of his face absently and kept playing, closing his eyes as he was drawn into the familiar rhythm. “You’d give your life away, vanish without a trace, and you’d give your life away. Run with the hunted.”

He repeated the chorus, his foot tapping against the carpet, head rolling, hypnotized by the sound. God, it felt so good to play after so long…he missed it.

“Dan?”

The musician was startled out of his trance, and he looked up to find Arin standing across from him. He must have been baking the clay; his forehead was sweaty, and there were sweat lines around the collar of his shirt, wild strands coming loose from his ponytail. He looked so sad…why? Before Dan could ask what the matter was, Arin went on. “Are you unhappy?”

“I…” Dan sat up slightly, shifting the guitar on his knee. It would be selfish of him to say yes, even if it was the truth. Because, really, he had no reason to be unhappy. It was his wanderlust, his sense of purpose, getting in the way.

Arin seemed to take Dan’s silence as an answer. He let out a long, holding back tears kind of sigh that honestly broke the drifter’s heart. “It’s okay if you are. It’s not like I haven’t noticed. You don’t eat anything at all, except during meals, you spend a lot of time sleeping, you look so goddamn lost…”

“Arin, it’s…” Dan began. “I’m sorry. I really am. I guess…the snow…” He leaned heavily over the guitar, fingers sliding along the frets to feel the texture of the strings in well-worn calluses. “I’m not…I’m used to moving.” He sighed. “Being in one place…it sucks. It doesn’t feel right if I’m not working.” Where had that come from? Being a drifter wasn’t any kind of work…but playing guitar was. And traveling…that was where his heart was. He wasn’t meant to be bound to anywhere.

Arin wasn’t looking at him. His posture was as stiff as Dan had ever seen it, one hand gripping his hip hard enough to bruise and the other rooted in the hair on the top of his head, slowly pulling it from the ponytail. His large brown eyes and expressive face couldn’t hide anything, and he looked heartbroken.

“I’m fucking sorry.” Arin said finally, still not looking at Dan, barely moving except to shift his hands until he was hiding them in his pockets. “I know…I know this wasn’t what you wanted. And I brought you here, and I’m so sorry, dude. I really am. I…” He bit his lip, and Dan could see him trembling, trying to keep from getting emotional.

“Arin,” Dan said softly. “Arin, please. It’s not you.” He sighed. “It really is me. God, I’m so shit at…this.” He let one hand fall against the hollow body of the guitar. “I’ve got cabin fever, bad. It’s not your fault.” 

Arin looked up at him finally, and Dan’s heart went out to the man immediately when he saw that he was crying. Poor Arin had made roots for himself, had made the best out of a breakup, and stuck to his guns. He’d been going about living his dream in a practical way. Danny had been chasing something vague, not even really knowing what he wanted to do.

Without thinking, Dan stood up and practically ran to Arin, pulling the younger man into an embrace. Arin welcomed the contact instantly, wrapping his arms around Dan’s slim waist and squeezing gently, hiding his face in Dan’s shoulder as he cried. Danny rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back and held him, letting him cry. He realized dumbly that this was the first time he’d ever wanted someone to genuinely feel happy all the time. Of course, he never liked seeing anyone cry or be sad, but he’d never hated tears as much as he hated Arin’s. He found himself wishing he could take the pain away from Arin, and wondered not for the first time if he wanted romantic involvement with this man.

Arin’s sobs eventually died down, though he was still clinging to Danny for dear life, as if he was afraid he was going to bolt. Which wouldn’t have been an unfair assumption, given their conversation. Arin inhaled shakily, the warm breath of his exhale warm on Danny’s neck. “I, uh…” Arin rested his chin on Danny’s bony shoulder. “I didn’t mean to cry. I’m sorry. I’m always prepared for everybody to wanna leave…y’know?”

Dan frowned and pulled back slightly. “Arin.” He pressed his forehead against the other man’s. “I don’t wanna leave cause of you.” He swallowed. “If anything…goddammit, if anything, you’re making me wanna stay.”

“Really?” Arin’s eyes lit up like he was a child and Dan had told him they were going to Disney World.

“Yeah.” Dan smiled. “I’ve never really…” He blushed. “I mean…I like dick—well, I like both, but that’s besides the point.” He giggled nervously, heart light when Arin mirrored it. “What I’m trying to say is…I’ve never found a person attached to a dick that I liked enough to…scratch that, there’s never been anyone who…” He trailed off. “Fuck, I dunno. I’m so bad at this shit. It’s not you, is what I’m saying.”

Arin tilted his head slightly. “Dan…do you…like me?”

“As friends, fuck yeah.” Dan replied without hesitation. “As…more?” He wet his lips. “I have no fuckin clue. I’ve never even been in love before, period.”

Arin nodded. “I can give you the space to figure it out. Everything’s okay if you don’t hate me, or anything.”

Danny laughed. “Dude, you fuckin saved my life!”

Arin laughed, too. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to like me!”

Despite the joking manner, Dan could hear the self-deprecation behind it, this falsehood that Arin believed, that the young man truly though no one could like him. 

Well, he could change that.

“Being cooped up fuckin sucks,” Dan said finally. “We gotta find a way to make it fun.”

Arin grinned. “Hot chocolate and videogames? I’ve even got a few you might just manage to not suck at.”

Dan offered him a playful glare. “C’mon, dude, I watched you suck at Windwaker.”

Arin snorted. “Fine, fine. We both suck, how’s that?”

“Suck dick or suck at videogames?” Dan joked. “Cause I dunno about you, but…”

Arin shoved at Dan playfully, and they finally released the hug both of them had forgotten they were a part of.

“Oof, can we maybe add food to the hot chocolate order?” Danny groaned, rubbing his stomach. “I’m fuckin hungry as shit.”

“Yeah, totally. I’ve got this sweet marshmallow and white chocolate peanut butter.” Arin grinned. “Does that suit you?”

“Fuck yeah.” Dan licked his lips hungrily.

He could afford to stave off his wanderlust for a little while longer. He wanted to get to know Arin better, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst makes the heart grow fonder???
> 
> Poor Arin tho. 
> 
> This story has some of the most engagement I've ever gotten on my fics. Thank you all so much!! ^-^ I love y'all.
> 
> Song is Skyhill's "Run With the Hunted."


	16. Pull Me Closer

Dan actually found himself starting to relax. 

He insisted on helping Arin with his work. Though he couldn’t really help Arin draw, he helped there by keeping his new friend company and being a critical eye when asked. In the basement was where he was most helpful, bringing tiny clay objects to the kiln so they could bake, and fetching supplies for Arin.

In the workshop, Dan had to keep his hair pulled back. The first time he’d situated his hair into a bun, Arin looked at him strangely, making Dan blush. “What?” He’d asked, shy of having eyes on him. So strange, for a man who had turned to prostitution to fill his belly or afford shelter in a pinch.

Arin’s gaze was full of adoration. “You just look…different with your hair pulled back, is all.”

“Is different good?”

“Different is…hot.”

And that was the thing, too. Danny should’ve been scared of falling in love, should have been wary of his heart clinging to this situation, but he found that he wasn’t. Arin was easy to fall in love with; they had so much in common, and Arin was so selfless and generous. It meshed well with Dan’s similar giving personality.

Dan had met Arin’s friends, too. Ross and Barry were similar to Arin in many ways. Barry was quiet and unassuming, though he often surprised everyone with his quick wit and easy jokes. Ross was a character and a half. Danny could see how many people would watch a YouTube show starring him; the young Australian was boisterous and full of energy, as well as being quite mischievous. Dan found that his affection only grew watching Arin interact with the other men. Arin was clearly a born leader, smart and competent, but he easily meshed with the personalities of his friends. Whenever Dan was present, his stomach always hurt afterwards from laughing so hard.

Ross and Barry made him feel welcome. When Arin had bragged about his musical talents, Ross had eagerly asked him to play. When Danny had played a little ditty about a unicorn wizard, an idea that sprouted from something Arin had mentioned in passing, Ross and Barry both laughed and praised his talents.

“Hey, you guys should totally start a YouTube show!” Ross had teased.

“What?” Danny asked, turning his gaze away from Arin.

“Yeah! You guys mesh so well…I bet everyone would love it.”

Barry nodded. “If it were a video game show, Arin would be the type to rage, and Dan, you could be there to say ‘it’s all right’ and get Arin back on track.”

“Yeah! And I bet Danny would tell great stories!” Ross bounced excitedly in his chair. 

“Plus, Arin can make Dan laugh. I bet you’d be funny enough for at least two million people, right, Ross?”

“Dude. Two billion. Easy.”

Arin and Dan had both laughed off the idea…but the thought had definitely crossed their minds.

A week passed, and the snow began to melt. The blizzard that had kept Dan bound to Arin’s house was dissipating. Despite how eager he’d been to leave at first, Danny found himself comfortable here. He didn’t really want to leave, and he was afraid Arin would kick him out.

But he should’ve known better.

“You should stay until it gets warmer,” Arin insisted. “It’s too cold. If you leave now, you’ll surely freeze to death! And you’re still a skinny-mini, anyway. It’s no fun to be starving and cold.”

“Thank you,” Dan smiled, leaning heavily into Arin’s shoulder as he watched the younger man play Mario Sunshine.

That night, snuggling close to a warm, familiar body, belly full of food, watching Arin’s brown eyes focus on the game, smelling the scent of sweat and clay and aftershave on his skin…it was the first time Dan admitted to himself that he actually romantically loved the shit out of Arin.

The older man wrapped his long arms around Arin’s waist, snuggling into Arin’s chest. Arin lifted up his arm to let him come closer, and Dan smiled.

It was strange to know already how Arin felt. Stranger still that Arin didn’t know how Danny felt.

“I fuckin love you, dude,” Dan murmured, curling up so that there was barely any space left between them.

Arin looked down fondly, running his hand through Dan’s hair, making the older man purr contentedly. “I love you, too.” 

His smile was so warm that Dan felt it wash over him like a warm blanket. He grinned back like a fool and closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of Arin grumbling about how he’d just died on an easy level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler...sorry.
> 
> More substance to come.
> 
> Guess I'm too sleepy for my writing to be high quality...T.T


End file.
